Instinctive Travels: The 41st Hunger Games
by CelticGames4
Summary: 24 tributes were reaped from the Districts to participate in the 41st annual Hunger Games. NOT a SYOT, but the readers can still totally read and YOU CAN SPONSOR TRIBUTES! Who will win these Games? The readers will help decide!
1. Meet the Tributes I

_**A/N: Welcome, welcome, welcome! To the FORTY FIRST HUNGER GAMES! For all those who read my first sponsor fic, welcome back, but it's never too late to read and get points! This is NOT a SYOT, all these characters were made by me, but all of you are able to sponsor! The points from my first story (Voices) will transfer, but my prices are pretty cheap, so feel free to come and review and get points! The story starts Day One of the Games, and all 24 Tributes will get a small POV, then it's up to you to pick your favorites. I split them up with 8 per chapter. I used a random generator to decide the POV order so it goes in no specific order of tributes! To get points, check out the system at the bottom! Thanks for reading this extremely long AN! **_

_**P.S. THIS CHAPTER IS REALLY LONG BUT I PROMISE ONCE I'M DONE WITH INTROS THE CHAPTERS SHOULD BE CONSIDERABLY SHORTER! **_

_Arrogance is nothing unless you have the skill to back it up._

**REGINALD'S POV**

Captain Reginald Holloway.

Son to a single mother. Acquaintance. Training partner. Fisher.

District 4 male tribute in the 41st Hunger Games.

A Career. Quiet but clever. Proper. Observant. Smart. Reaped, but determined.

Short, brown hair. Sea-green eyes. Tall. Skinny. Not usually wearing a smile. Just a little physical description.

My dream was to follow in the footsteps of my family and join the Capitol's Secret Regiment later in the year. My Dad is always away from the house, leaving me with my Mom. I wanted to join the ranks with him. Hence why I embrace the title of Captain that I got back home in District 4.

From my very limited training with guns, I know how to at least shoot a target with a projectile, which is why I want a bow and arrow when we get out there.

Nobody in District 4 volunteered for me when I got reaped, which is a little unfortunate considering they won't want a Victor running around in a secret Capitol Organization.

I suppose winning the Hunger Games is an honor in itself, but to me it'll barely ever be the same. After all, you don't get medals for that. And we all know that I appreciate medals. And if you don't know, I promise that you'll find it out pretty quick.

The One girl, Candle, stands immediately next to me. On the other side, the boy from 12.

I won't elaborate on the Arena _too _much, but it's unlike anything I've ever seen. It looks as if we've just been thrown into a child's toy box. I wasn't sure what to expect, but in a million years, I would've never been able to guess this.

The clock hits 20 and I give a nod to Candle next to me, looking for the other members of our alliance. One thing I've found that Candle, Fabian, Laurentina, and especially Pride have in common is their arrogance. They all claim that they're superhuman, that they can do anything that's thrown at them. But, come on, every human has their faults. And arrogance is nothing unless you have the skill to back it up. A lot of them don't.

I try to be humble outwardly, and not too arrogant inside either, but when it comes down to raw skill, words will disappear and I will win the Hunger Games.

_It's all unfair. But there's nothing we can do about it now. _

**RHETT'S POV**

Rhett Wimberly.

Best friend. Loving son. Coworker.

District 5 male tribute in the 41st Hunger Games.

Unafraid to speak out. Bold. Loud. Strong-willed, but not violent.

Pale skin. Brown eyes. Blonde hair. Short, small, only 12. Reaped unfairly.

I hate the Hunger Games. I hate the Capitol. I've been saying that for days and days, weeks and weeks, years and years of my life. I already don't like this, I've never liked it, I never will like it. The Arena's just a load of crap, just like the Games. It's annoying, bright and colorful, all made of scratchy wood that'll only splinter us up.

The clock is ticking away the seconds of all our lives at a pace that seems way to fast. They have to have hijacked it, those can't be real seconds. They go faster and faster as the final minute of our lives ticks on and on and we stand on our stupid metal plates, preparing to kill each other.

The others are annoying and I won't ally with any of them. I'm going to die helplessly and District 5 is going to go nuts about my death. I can feel it. I didn't even care to train because I already know I'm going to die day one. I don't even care about getting supplies because I'm going to die. There is no hope. I'm only 12 years old, after all.

I can't believe this is happening! I can't believe anyone would be Ok with doing something like this! Life is so unfair to me, a poor little boy from District 5 with no hope left! My whole life has been nothing but unfair, having to work for money and having to study stupid crap at school, and now being doomed by these Hunger Games!

It's all unfair.

But there's nothing we can do about it now. If only our stupid ancestors had thought well enough to actually _win_ the rebellion when it happened. If only the kids of the stupid Games would've stopped them from happening with peace. But, no. Now we're here, and I'm gonna die because of all them. Thanks a lot.

Then I watch my last seconds tick away, drowning in self-pity for the 12-year-old who is going to die when that gong rings.

_I might be stronger than they all think. Underestimation is key. _

**TIERRA'S POV**

Tierra Morrison.

Best friend. Loving daughter of a single father. Instructor. Harvester.

District 11 female tribute in the 41st Hunger Games.

Quiet. Polite. Obedient. Strong but shy.

Dark skin. Dark hair. Brown eyes. Tall. Slender.

There was always a lingering fear that I would be reaped into the Games, but it is considered normal back home at District 11. Nobody wants to be here, and yet here we are. And, in an almost completely artificial Arena, it appears that any skills with nature are going to be rendered completely useless. Which means that I'm out of skills already. It's hard to _not _know about nature when you live in 11.

You're surrounded by nature every day back home. If you want to have fun, you go outside and explore. It's where we work, it's where any social gatherings or District meetings are held, and it's where everything is. Inside has nothing compared to outside. Sometimes, someone gets lucky enough to be able to smuggle a couple seeds and "accidentally" plant a berry bush in their yard. The only concern is whether or not it's safe to eat. This knowledge is passed from generation to generation, often serving as important life lessons.

Edible plants is usually something that comes naturally. Often, District 11 tributes like me know even more secrets about plants than they teach at Training. It's probably our only advantage in the Arena, unless you're one of the heavy-workers that's had time to build strength. I was never allowed to do any of that work: I'm much too thin and "fragile."

What nobody knows is that I might be stronger than they all think. Underestimation is key for those tributes from the outer Districts. If I can just get them to overlook me enough, I can hopefully fly by unscathed and return just in time for the final battle. As for who it's against, I'm not sure who I think it'll be. Hopefully it's someone I can defeat without the help of the Capitol.

Then again, from exploring in 11, I've also gotten good at running from mutts.

_I may look cute, have a cute name, and embroider the most beautiful pillows for you, but it doesn't mean I'm squeaky clean._

**LIANA'S POV**

Liana Finley.

Sister. Daughter. Friend. Seamstress.

District 8 female in the 41st Hunger Games.

Deceiving. Quiet. Refined. Petite. Sell alcohol at the black market, but never been drunk in my life.

Fair skin. Blonde hair. Brown eyes. Tall. Normal-weight.

I'm probably the last person in District 8 you would expect to run a booth at the black market. But in reality, well, looks can be deceiving. I may look cute, have a cute name, and embroider the most beautiful pillows for you, but it doesn't mean I'm squeaky clean. If anything, it should probably make you more suspicious.

By day, I'm just a lowly seamstress with a pretty smile that makes the most beautiful creations with lace. By night, I can hook you up with whatever drugs you could possibly need, but not without selling you a bottle of booze first. It may be gross, especially the people that I have to deal with, but I'm well-off. I've never been _starving, _even if I have spent a night or two in my day hungry, and I only got caught once and whipped. The experience was awful, but I think it's worth the extra money I make.

I certainly make more selling alcohol that I'll ever make working as a seamstress. The conditions are god-awful and we're _extremely _underpaid. Even when I finish a creation, it gets sent off to the Capitol to be bought and somehow I only get one coin for it, with our boss keeping for himself and the Capitol keeping their share.

My creations are so carefully done that it tricks people into thinking that's how I get all the money I have, with expensive creations. And that's what they'll always believe, especially the Capitol.

When I'm a Victor, well, I guess my regulars'll have to find some other place to get drunk at, because as soon as I come out of the Arena, I'm giving up my business forever.

My Victor's talent will be sewing, and that's all anyone will ever know of the person I was before the Games.

_That means that now, I have nothing to lose. _

**LINCOLN'S POV**

Lincoln Frazier.

Son. Friend. Cousin. "Freak."

District 6 male tribute in the 41st Hunger Games.

Small. Skinny. Starving. Short. Teased. Dysgraphic. Dyslexic. "Stupid."

Tan skin. Curly brown hair. Sweet brown eyes.

Yes, I'm from the District of transportation: 6. But I hated it there. I dunno what it is; if it's something about my dysgraphia _and _dyslexia, or something about how I suck at sports, something about the people I call my friends, or something about my interest in animals, but whatever it is gets me bullied by almost everyone.

Their favorite word to use is _stupid. _I think it's because I have the reading level of a _fourth grader_ and I'm 13. It's because District 6 is probably the trashiest place to live in when you can't learn and nobody has as much as a _remote_ program for kids that have trouble learning. It's because kids around here either get reaped into the Hunger Games or leave school to go work in a factory. Factory work is dangerous, with long hours from dawn to past sunset, and not to mention it doesn't pay much at all!

I was almost doomed to that fate; I was going to have to go to work as soon as I turned 14, which is actually much younger than the other kids that go to work as teens, but I can't do any good in school, and we need food. We're starving.

But now I guess I'll either die in the Arena and I'll be gone forever before I can think about it, or I'll come home victorious and be the among the only people in the whole District that lives in luxury. I'd never have to work. Maybe I could actually get a pretty good education. Not to mention that not a soul would dare to call me names ever again. I could help who I wanted, too. I could help my cousin Calix. Or my best friend Roth. They could come live with me in the Victor's Village. Roth could get away from those parents he hates. Cal could get out of that orphanage.

That means that now, I have nothing to lose. I have to win the Hunger Games.

_I already know that I'm doomed. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't make an impact. _

**NOLAN'S POV**

Nolan Rinehart.

Enemy. Bully. Slugger. Drunk. Smoker. Addict.

District 8 male in the 41st Hunger Games.

Tall. Strong but weak at once. Rude. Violent. Addicted to so much shit it's not funny.

Blonde hair that sticks up. Bloodshot gray eyes. Just a huge mess.

I'm 18 and live on my own. As soon as I was able I moved away from my parents. They hated me and I hated them. I'm a lone wolf, on my own. And I plan to be the same way in the Games. When things at home started to get rocky I started spending more and more time in the bad places at 8. I know Liana, she was always the one to talk to if you wanted some addicting substance to get your mind off of things. She's been playing the innocent card, and I can't say I blame her. The Capitol probably loves her.

My money would personally be on her to win. I think she's able to, I think she can do it. Bring District 8 another Victor. Me? I won't last three days. I'm addicted to too many drugs to survive a week without them. Especially in an Arena like this. I already know that I'm doomed. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't make an impact. Back home, everyone's afraid of me. It's only because I give them a reason to be, though. I pick on them, most of the time when I'm drunk (which is a lot), and I seem to have a talent of hurting people, both emotionally and physically. And that's only going to become worse when I have to deal with withdrawal.

But, hey, at least they're skills I can use in the Arena.

_I am the alpha male. I am the strongest, fastest, and smartest, and nothing will ever stop me. _

**PRIDE'S POV**

Pride Davison.

Loyal boyfriend. Spectacular friend. Loving brother. Wonderful son. District 1's hero.

District 1 male (and future Victor) of the 41st Hunger Games.

Tall. Ripped. Handsome. Popular. Brilliant. Perfectly cocky.

Soft blonde hair. Winning, beautiful blue eyes. Did I mention _ripped? _

The Hunger Games is in my blood. Sure, nobody from my family has _won _exactly, but I'm about to change that: for good. I don't care about any of these tributes back home! I have a sexy girlfriend back home and I'm going to win the Games for her, and for my parents, who are oh-so-proud of me, and for all my friends from the Academy.

What puts me above the others is that I don't care about any of them! I would kill the losers who are my "alliance" day one, except for the fact that then I would have no puppets to manipulate and play with. The point is that I don't have a problem with killing. It's what I've been taught to do from the time I was just two years old to now. I've watched replays of every single Hunger Games, taking tactics into view, and fighting skills. I've spent many long nights at the Academy, being by myself until three in the morning training.

I am ready for these Games. I've put in the work, and I'm already so awesome that I am going to win. Even in our alliance, I am the alpha male. The leader. Because I am the strongest, fastest, and the smartest, and nothing will ever stop me!

They all think they're so good, but none of them are anything compared to me. My whole alliance: along with all the other shitty tributes here in this Arena with us: can just cower in my enormous shadow and hope that I choose to kill them all quickly.

But all they can do is hope.

_This is a fight to the death, and in fights to the death, there is no room for mercy. _

**JOSIE'S POV**

Josie Tarver.

Friend. Daughter. Prostitute.

District 9 female tribute in the 41st Hunger Games.

Short. Skinny. Busty. Manipulative. Clever to get what I want.

Wavy, light brown hair. Light brown eyes.

District 9 sucks. The days are long and hot, the work hours literally take forever. And I don't get to stop working in the day. I have to spend my nights in some random house of someone I've never met before, exposing my body. That's where I'll wake up. That's where I'll have to try to find the money. That's where I'll have to flee from without waking anyone up. It's a tricky task, and never a fun one. But it's something I've always had to do.

Being a Victor has to be better than the life I've been living now. There are rumors going around the District that Victors are sold into prostitution, but at least, even if that was the case, I wouldn't have to work the next morning. I could just sleep in the days, have sex in the nights. Yeah, it'll suck, but I'd do anything to get out of the life I lived before I got reaped.

TO win the Hunger Games, you have to kill, which I'm actually Ok with. Let's get blood on our hands, why don't we!? Let's manipulate some guys with seduction to get what we want, why don't we!? Just because my life sucks doesn't mean I'm nice. In fact, I'm going to be a total bitch in the Arena, just like I am back home, because this is a fight to the _death, _and in fights to the death, there is no room for mercy. All of these guys are going to die, and I don't give a damn who kills them, though it might be good if it was by my hand.

_Happy Hunger Games. _

_**A/N: Yay! Alright, so for those of you interested in sponsoring tributes (when the time is right, I suppose), I have the list of what you can do and how many points it will get you! Also, I'll carry over the scores from before. **_

_**Any review you leave on this story will get you 5 points immediately. **_

_**Long reviews with advice and opinions get an additional 5 points. **_

_**A favorite for the story will be 4 points.**_

_**A follow will get you 2 points.**_

_**Leaving a review on another one of my stories will get you 10 points per story.**_

_**Ooo! I also might post concept art for the Arena/characters to Tumblr. A like will be worth 3 points and a reblog will be worth 5. Add a comment and I might give you extra because I really like that stuff… :X **_

_**Also, every chapter, I'm going to ask a question. There are no right/wrong answers, I just really want to know what you think. Answer the question and I'll give you 7 points. **_

_**Speaking of, before scores, HERE is the chapter question: Which two of the POV's above stood out to you the MOST? **_

_**Here are the scores from Voices. BUT IT'S NOT TOO LATE TO GET POINTS! GUESTS ARE WELCOME AS WELL! **_

_**Kate: 121**_

_**Lgkavanagh22: 19**_

_**Dreamer: 132**_

_**Jess: 219**_

_**maxlvr101: 7**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**Turtlewithwings: 62**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**TheInkBender: 2**_

_**swimmyfinnick1: 4**_

_** .Strange: 17**_

_**Wow, that's a lot of words. Thanks if you read them all. Hopefully I'll put Part 2 up soon !**_

_**~Ciao! **_


	2. Meet the Tributes II

_Ever since I was a child, my philosophy has been to hurt, something that will actually prove helpful in an Arena. _

**LUTHER'S POV**

Luther Pultzer.

Brother. Friend. Son.

District 7 male in the 41st Hunger Games.

Tall. Strong. Mean. Cold. Unforgiving. Merciless.

Built to cut down trees, with dark brown hair that gets in my fucking eyes ever ten seconds. Dark eyes that are nothing to everyone.

I've never seen love a day in my life and I don't think I ever will. I don't know why I should. After all, I've returned all the hate that's been given to me, to not only my family, but also those people I called my friends, and that girl I was dating. Ever since I was a child, my philosophy has been to hurt, something that will actually prove helpful in an Arena.

I take out my anger a lot on the trees that surround District 7. It's how I get my money, which is later wrestled off of me by my parents. Cutting down trees is something I'm good at, it's something that I can manage to do, and it's something I can do instead of taking out the hardships of my life on everyone around me. Since I've started working, I've been a lot better to the people around me, even though a lot of them are still uneasy around me.

I'm currently 17, and now I'm in the Hunger Games, somewhere I never thought I'd have to go. And, though this Arena appears to be made out of wood, there are no trees to cut down. Which means that the only really logical thing here to axe is… The tributes.

I already know that I have a lot building up inside, from all the anger I still have locked up. And I know that, for the next week or so, I'm going to be scary. I'm going to be a murderer of children, and maybe even some people that are older than I am. But no matter what, just for this week, I have to keep going.

I can deal with death-guilt later, when I'm safe at home and a Victor.

_I'm not a fighter, true, but I'm a thinker, and sometimes, we can be just as dangerous. _

**FAHRENHEIT'S POV**

Fahrenheit Becker.

Daughter. Friend. Girlfriend. Sister.

District 3 female in the 41st Hunger Games.

Thin. Average height. Observant. Optimistic. Quiet but able to make friends.

Skinny, because I'm starving. Long, straight chestnut hair. Sky blue eyes.

There's not a lot to say about me because my life actually isn't that interesting. I have two brothers and live a normal life of a teenage girl in District 3. Learning to work in the factories, but luckily for me, I never actually had to work. Went to school, had an education, got straight A's every year of my life.

I'm not a fighter, true, but I'm a thinker, and sometimes, we can be just as dangerous. I like to look on the possible bright side of things, I _could_ win. I have a possible alliance going with the boy from my District. He also talked to the boy from Nine, who was interested. So I have an alliance, hopefully, already. Avogadro is even more brilliant than I am. Ian is a fast runner and also I saw him with a sword and he wasn't actually that bad.

I look down the line of tributes and the girl from Four is next to me. She stares across the assorted, oversized, wooden toys, large green eyes looking very afraid. There's a reason she's not traveling with the Careers. I think she might like to travel with us, if we can convince her. The only problem is that I'm not sure that Avogadro and Ian will go for that. And I also only have 15 seconds to think about it.

I have to be careful who I ally with. Considering I'm not as well-rounded as the Careers, my allies are the deciding factor of whether I love or die.

_The Games is about more than fighting. To win, you need skills, smarts, friendships in the right places, and a charming smile. _

**FABIAN'S POV**

Fabian Rockwell.

Friend. Brother. Hard worker. Trainer. All-A student.

District 2 male tribute in the 41st Hunger Games.

Future Victor, if everything goes right.

Funny. Nice. Smart. Confident. Great liar. Makes friends easily. Quick to kiss a girl, but a virgin.

Pale skin. Dark hair. I tell people I have a six-pack.

Prefers spears as a weapon.

This is me. Nice to meet you! I hope that we can be friends. Because I have a feeling that you'll probably be the only thing close to a friend that I have in this place called an Arena. My district partner Laurentina is someone I know well from back home. She didn't have to do a lot of work to get into the Games, considering that she's the daughter of a Head Trainer. Even so, she's extremely precise with her knives and I've seen her kill dummies with pretty much every weapon on the planet. Anyways, Laurentina's "nice" to everyone, but I think I'm the only one that really has an idea what she's capable of, and to what measure she will go to in an effort to become a Victor. Last time a Head Trainer's son went into the Games, he won, and I think she wants to be the second.

_Myself _getting the honor to volunteer was unfortunately not as easy. Even though orphans lodge in the Academy, we're _extremely _overlooked. It took a hell of a ton of training, along with studying skills from books, and practicing to no end for _every _aspect of the Games. I ate, drank, slept, _lived _Hunger Games from the moment I turned 12 until this very day, and probably beyond. The point is that I put in a lot of work to get here, and I'm going to continue putting in work to win the Games.

See, I'm confident that I can defeat her, and all the other tributes that are here with me because, unlike any of the others, I've taken the time to find everyone's strong points and weak points, and I intend to use them for my own benefit. The tributes, especially the ones in our alliance, are all real gems, but their problem is that they all only have one real skill. I'm not saying they're not good at whatever that skill might be, but I _am _saying that they're not so keen on anything else. The Games are, after all, about more than fighting. To win, you need skills, smarts, friendships in the right places, and a charming smile.

While the others may have a couple of those qualities, I feel like I have them all, and that's how I intend to pull Victory out of a hat.

Ha, Laurentina'll never see it coming.

_My life will never be normal again._

**JOCELYN'S POV**

Jocelyn Turner.

Little sister. Best friend forever. Future apprentice. Youngest daughter.

District 7 female in the 41st Hunger Games.

Small. Giggly. Happy. Funny. Tender. Loving. Kind.

Tan skin. Brown hair. Big blue eyes.

To be honest, I never really minded my life back at District 7. Maybe it was because I only lived a "normal" life until now. I was chosen on my first reaping, which is extremely bad luck I guess. My life will never be normal again, I already know that. In fact, it's a little insane to think that my time is ticking away. Seconds are flying into the wind and escaping from my fingers, like the autumn leaves that blow around back home.

However my life _does _change, if it ends or if I somehow win the Games and come back, I've had to grow up and mature so much in just a week. Learn to be "proper" from a Capitol person that I didn't get to know personally but hate all the same. Learn how to survive in the middle of nowhere with other kids trying to kill you. Learn how to _wield a weapon. _

Granted, someday in Seven, I would've had to learn how to deal with an axe, but that's completely different because I would be comforted by the knowledge that the axe in my hands would only ever be used on _trees. _

I've tried to find myself an alliance, but nobody's really interested in talking to a naïve 12-year-old girl from District 7. More than anything, I want to talk to the 12-year-old from 5, Rhett, about getting together. The only problem is that he's been staying at least five feet away from everyone, and every time I've tried to talk to him, something came up that he had to flee from the scene. Maybe it's for the best, considering he didn't actually do a lot of training.

The clock hits ten and I realize I can't focus on allies right now. I can't focus on anything but that gold horn in front of me, as the final seconds fly away in the wind.

_Fear means certain death in a Hunger Games Arena._

**BLANCHE'S POV**

Blanche Tawell.

Older and little sister. Daughter.

District 4 female tribute in the 41st Hunger Games.

Average height. On the skinny side, but not as bad as some of the others. Scared. Paranoid. Insane.

Pale skin from being inside all the time. Golden-blonde hair that is wavy in twenty different ways. Big, green eyes that I wish were smaller.

_Come on, Blanche! Why don't you tell them about us!? _

There are voices. There are voices in my head. I see things, sometimes that other people don't see. I have trouble computing things sometimes. I'm schizophrenic.

_Tick… Tick… Tick… Might want to start running, Blanche! _

My heart-rate picks up and I do everything to stop it. I take deep breaths, trying my absolute hardest not to seem afraid. Fear means certain death in a Hunger Games Arena.

_The seconds are going! Run now! _

There's a chorus of _Run now!_'s. I grab my temples, trying to get them to go away. Just for a minute, I want them to go away. I twitch, my body trying to run off the silver platform. I try not to cry, with everything I have in me. I resist the temptation of the screaming voices to move forward and hold my place.

_Look around yourself, Blanche! What do you see? _

Tributes. So many of them. So many it makes my head ache even worse than it already was originally. My head blares and now my hands firmly grab the sides of my head and I try to get the voices out of my head. I look out around the toys and see my little brother Fritz, out there in the Arena, playing with his favorite toys.

Is it real? Is it real? Is it another of those "hallucinations?" What's going on? Why is he here? Or is he here?

_Where's Fritz, Blanche?! What's going on!? You should find him. _

_Run! _

_Run! _

_RUN! _

I clench my teeth and shake my head, wishing the voices to go away, wishing to not see Fritz anymore unless he's actually there.

My head blares and it hurts. I do everything in my power not to run.

I just hope I can last.

_I will make a legacy, so supreme that generations and generations will look up to it. _

**CANDLE'S POV**

Candle Scheibel.

Older sister. Daughter to the proudest parents in District One. Ready to make a name for myself.

District 1 female in the 41st Hunger Games.

Tall. Stronger than I look, I swear. Confident. Quiet. Proper. Polite. Until it's time to start killing, that is.

Fair skin. Blonde hair that is almost white. Calm, dark blue eyes.

Nobody in my family's ever gotten to volunteer: until now. I'm the first one, and I'm going to be the first one to win. I will make a legacy, so supreme that generations and generations will look up to it. All of them will strive to be as good as me. They'll train for the Games, just like I did. Maybe they'll even take on my training approach: stay quiet, polite, and calm, until it's time for the fight. I don't curse and I definitely don't scream during fights, and I can kill someone so quickly and quietly that they'll be dead before they can scream.

I want our alliance to be nocturnal, and I think that Pride (whose head is going to get so big one of these days that it explodes) agrees with me. Ha, I think he's even going to try and take credit for the idea! Then maybe he'll, uh, have a little _accident _in the woods. None of the other tributes'll have to know.

Nobody needs to know how big of a threat I am. If I stay far enough under the radar, (even though I am a Career, which puts me smack-dab in the spotlight), people might be fooled enough to kill the other "threats" in our alliance before they kill me.

Reginald and I exchange a look and a very polite nod. Man, that guy is tall. Anyways, I have to be confident enough to overlook the others.

This is it. What I've been _dreaming_ of.

And only 23 obstacles stand in my way on the journey to a laurel crown.

_They expect me to be able to do everything. _

**AVOGADRO'S POV**

Avogadro Bismarck.

Older brother-to-be. Son. Teacher's pet. High marks in school.

District 3 male in the 41st Hunger Games.

Short. Normal weight. Incredibly bright. "Nerdy." Picked on.

Pale skin. Freckles. Flaming ginger hair. Glasses. Bland brown eyes.

The first thing I do when I'm lifted away from my stylist in the main room is take a look around. Much to my despair, Ian and Fahrenheit, my two possible allies, are on the whole other end of the tribute line than me. Fabian, the boy from District 2, is on my right. Lincoln, the boy from 6, is on my right. He looks scared, which isn't surprising considering that he _is _only 13. I know how he feels, because I feel very much the same way. After all, I _am_ just 14, even though some people forget that because I skipped a grade at school.

They say I'm exceptionally smart, but I don't really want to be. I just want to be normal, for once. They call me a "genius," but I don't _want _to be anything more than a 14-year-old boy, that has a limited knowledge of school and useless knowledge, and can have fun without people constantly over his shoulder going off about _expectations_.

They expect me to be able to do everything, and it's extremely stressful for me, because, as I said earlier, I'm only 14 years old!

The only promise I show now is my brilliance. I have all of the techniques memorized, picking up with ease on the words our trainers used to describe the motions of throwing weapons and starting fires and painting: my body's just really awkward and weird and I can't make it do those said motions. I'm a master with plants and berries and I know everything about survival. The problem is that I can't _apply _these skills.

But, just like every other thing I do back in District 3, these Games are coming with a new load of expectations for me to carry.

And even if I fail to reach them, well, I won't have to worry. Because I'll be dead.

_This place looks way too much fun to be an Arena._

**ANTOINETTE'S POV**

Antoinette Carroll.

Little sister. Daughter to a single father. Best friend. Schoolgirl.

District 12 female in the 41st Hunger Games.

Small. Sweet. Kind. Gentle. Not a killer.

Olive skin. Dark, curly, short hair. Gray eyes.

The Arena was made for a child. Wood floors, giant toys. Right by the Cornucopia appears to be some kind of train station. There are giant, colorful blocks that are twice the height of the Cornucopia, and almost twice as wide. They're stacked in all different formations. There are some cube letter blocks that look like some of the taller tributes like Pride and especially Reginald could climb up on. If I could only get up there, who knows? I could get so much farther. Along some of the walls are bright, colorful designs, like clocks and checks. The floor is tiled with a diamond design of red and beige.

I even see a huge rocking horse, in the distance. This is all too weird…

And yet, when I look around, I see some tufts of grass and even some bushes. I wonder if maybe there are berries in those bushes.

This place looks way too much fun to be an Arena. Then again, some of the tributes _are _going to have fun here, killing little children, as young as the twelve-year-olds, and 13-year-olds like myself and I think the boy from 6…

Anyways, the point is that people are actually insane enough to have fun here. I should know, I'm standing next to the girl from District 2 right now and she looks almost rabid with adrenaline and excitement to get out there and take lives.

Take lives… Yay…

Who in their right mind would ever train their kid to take lives?

Maybe it's different for them. Obviously it is; they think this is all Ok because that's how they were all raised. I'm glad that at least, if our District doesn't win every single Games, at least we have _morals._ Even if nobody else in this place does, I have morals. And there's no way that I'm going to fight anyone, no matter who it is, unless they're about to kill _me. _

Because I don't care if I die day one… I refuse to take lives.

**A/N: Question first, then points. **

**THIS CHAPTER QUESTION: Same as last chapter. Which are your two favorites of these eight: Luther, Fahrenheit, Fabian, Jocelyn, Blanche, Candle, Avogadro, and Antoinette? **

**POINTS:**

_**Kate: 138**_

_**Lgkavanagh22: 19**_

_**Dreamer: 148**_

_**Jess: 243**_

_**maxlvr101: 7**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**Turtlewithwings: 67**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**TheInkBender: 2**_

_**swimmyfinnick1: 4**_

_** .Strange: 45**_


	3. Meet the Tributes III

_**A/N: I'm trying to get into the habit of PM'ing for each review. I'm very awkward and not good with words so I'm sorry if it's very repetitive. Also, uh… I cannot spell and I'm sorry. For the first couple of chapters I spelled the D3 girl's name "Farenheit," and I totally didn't notice the red squiggly line under it so yeah, I'm sorry. I changed it to the correct spelling on the other documents of the word and that's how it will be spelled from now on! Sorry (gosh, this is why I suck at science…) **_

* * *

_I just hope that my story has a happy ending._

**MICK'S POV**

Mick Evans.

Only child. Friend, to humans and animals (but mostly animals). Trainer. Herder.

District 10 male in the 41st Hunger Games.

Tall. Built like a strong District 10 man, even though I'm barely an adult, just having turned 18 three days ago.

Blonde hair. Brown eyes. A smile that people really seem to like, but I don't exactly understand why.

Unfortunately, Mick is not, in fact, short for anything. My name is four letters long, one syllable, short and sweet: Mick. Back home I rarely see my parents: my dad is out working through the long days and nights, and my Mom finds, uh, _other_ means of getting the family money.

I'd never want to live a life like hers. Especially now.

One son, going into the Hunger Games to possibly face death, leaving behind two dogs, one of which is going to have puppies, probably while he's away. However long he'll be away for. Even with me gone, they have to work through the days and nights, listening to updates on how the Games are going. If I die, my dogs are doomed, considering my parents always hated them. The only reason they continued to feed both of them was for me.

They both really love me. No matter how I do in these Games, they always will. So will Dolce and Carino (those are my dogs). Dolce (for some reason I pronounce it Dol-che) is the girl, and she's a collie that loves to run around and play outside. Carino is a Britany that is extremely energetic. Both dogs tend to get a little over-affectionate, but they're dogs, so of course they would. I don't have a horse that is officially _mine, _but I do have a pinto named Splotch that really likes me (and I really like him too).

That's my story so far. It's not very exciting, I know, unless you really like animals, then I guess it's really nice to meet some. I just hope that said story has a happy ending.

(I'm a real softie for animals, by the way, which could be a problem in the Arena.)

(Then again, we're not in a natural place of any kind, so who knows?)

The clock ticks down and I have to stop thinking now and focus on the Game, not myself. I think that if I can do that for the rest of the week, I could possibly be able to win.

* * *

_I'm lucky I'm average in everything, I guess. Not a stand-out to anyone, in any way. _

**IAN'S POV**

Ian Harper.

Only child. Son to a single mother. Best friend to one person, generally unliked by the rest of the population. Future worker, except for not anymore.

District 9 male in the 41st Hunger Games.

Average height. Skinny. Polite. Sarcastic with stupid people (who I can't stand). Not exceptionally smart, but bright enough to do well in the very little schooling we get.

Short, light brown hair. Bland, pale blue eyes. Very rarely smiling, but people say it's nice when it comes around.

Being from District 9 puts me at a disadvantage, I think. I mean, the Career districts are obviously the most popular, with strong tributes and nasty, arrogant natures to them. Districts 11 and 12 mostly are known widely for being spitting poor, and therefore if you have someone as determined as Tierra or as cute as Antoinette, or even as purely powerful as Salem, they get attention from the Capitol. And the other Districts this year seem to have produced an extremely charismatic group of tributes. The boy from 3 interests me because I think he's smarter than he's been playing around to be. Apparently the girl from his District is going to travel with us, too.

I'm 16, and I'm pretty average in terms of height. I'm definitely not a giant like Reginald, and I'm not a little peanut like the boy from 6 (uh, Lincoln, right?), or even Avogadro. Man, some of the tributes are tiny this year, and some of the others are practically stick figures, including me. It _was _a bad year for everyone this past year. Even a couple of the Careers look skinnier than they usually do, namely Candle and Reginald. These Games are sure going to be interesting.

I look down the line of tributes, lined up in front of the glitzy Cornucopia. I can barely see Avogadro, all I see of the boy in the distance is his bright ginger hair. It's nice for his allies to spot him, but it also means that his enemies will spot him. I'm lucky I'm average in everything, I guess. Not a stand-out to anyone, in any way.

I guess I can live with leaving Avogadro behind, if that's what I have to do to survive, and running off with Fahrenheit. She's nice enough, probably smart enough, too. She gives me a nod and tries a smile as the clock strikes 10.

The possible last ten seconds of our lives.

* * *

_All the time, actually, I really hate the Capitol. _

**PENNY'S POV**

Penny Kasser.

Big sister. Friend. Daughter to two of the actually good parents in District 5.

District 5 female in the 41st Hunger Games.

Fairly tall. Definitely not as skinny as some of the others here. Not extremely good at anything in particular, but good enough at everything I've been taught to use a knife and survive out in the wild.

Strawberry-blonde hair. Gray eyes. A wide smile that I force out a lot.

I trained so long and so hard to live out in the wild, against animals, hunting for food, peeing by trees on the ground, painting camouflage, making fires, taking edible berry tests, all to be thrown in an oversized TOY CHEST?! God, you've _got _to be kidding me.

Sometimes, I really hate the Capitol. All the time, actually, I really hate the Capitol. I hate them for my life, how hard they make us work in the Districts and for such little pay, as well, even when there are people who are _teenagers _working their _asses _off instead of going to school, where said teenagers might actually like to go.

Am I ranting again? I am. Sorry.

I have so much negativity that I have to swallow down all the time, and honestly, it gets exhausting. See, I'm the oldest in a house of four children, and the others are all still little kids: Georgy, who's 5, Ivan, who's 7, and Sawyer, who's 9. Before you say it, yes, I know, it's a big age gap. That's a long story that I really don't want to think about as the clock is counting down.

I never, _ever _want it to reach zero.

* * *

_When I win the Games, I'll finally achieve what I've wanted for years and fucking years: solitude._

**SALEM'S POV**

Salem Christenson.

Big brother to a little brat that can't seem to find his place. Feared by all the little twats that I have to deal with on a daily basis.

District 12 male in the 41st Hunger Games.

Average height. Strong. Quiet, unless you piss me off. 110% willing to kill.

Olive skin. Dark brown hair that I never bother to deal with. Dark gray eyes that very clearly symbolize that I'm from the Seam.

I wish I wasn't from the Seam. When I win the Hunger Games, I'll never even have to give that damn place a second look. I can wander the part of town with the blonde-haired, blue-eyed merchants, buy whatever the hell I want to buy for nobody but myself, and finally achieve what I've wanted for years and fucking **years:** solitude.

Unfortunately, I live in a house with a bunch of fucking imbeciles. My Mom is obsessed with having a perfectly loving family. She always yells at me for being "rude" to the other lunatics in there and says that a family doesn't need money if they have _love, _something that makes me puke every time she sees it. Then you have my father, who is almost the same way, only not quite as obsessed. They often call family meetings, with the purpose of trying to "mediate" the problems that I have with my acquaintance at most, even though we are biologically brothers. This often includes them forcing me to apologize for things that he deserves that I don't feel one touch sorry for.

His name's Holland, he's 15, and he keeps saying the brattiest things. If you listened to my brother speak, you might think that he actually means the shit he's saying, but maybe it's just a trick. He cries a good deal: each and every time he says some fucking retarded thing and I sock him in the face: and he thinks that his excuses are valid: and so do our parents. He chose to start drooling after every stupid human being in the District: and no, I don't mean just the girls: just to get the sympathy of our parents. Often, he argues that "just because he fall in love with other genders doesn't mean he sleeps with them," but why the hell else would you choose a life like that?

In short, I hate Holland, and he hates me, so we're even. When I win the Games, the first thing I'm doing is moving into that Victor's Village and never talking to any of them. I think it'll be better for everyone, especially me, which is all that's important.

Let the Games begin.

* * *

_As soon as that gong goes off, it's no longer about how cute, attractive, funny, charming, or nice you are: it's about how well you kill, and how well you survive. _

**REED'S POV**

Reed Hutchcroft.

Little brother. Best friend. Berry picker.

District 11 male in the 41st Hunger Games.

Short. Skinny. Optimistic. Usually happy. Loving to sing.

Shaggy brown hair that usually hangs in my pale green eyes.

I'm still 13. And 13 is really young to be in the Hunger Games. Sure, the Capitol thinks I'm adorable because I'm among the youngest ones here, but that's not going to help me at all anymore. As soon as that gong goes off, it's no longer about how cute, attractive, funny, charming, or nice you are: it's about how well you kill, and how well you survive.

And, I'm not going to be able to do either of those without someone else to help me along the way. I need an ally, and I suppose I'd be alright with anyone, as long as they could help me do the things I can't do on my own (and, of course, I could help them) and we can get along without tearing each other's throats out in the night. Or, uh, more like, _them_ tearing out _my_ throat in the night.

Back home, everyone said that I have a real knack for making friends, but that's just a total curse in the Hunger Games. The point, in fact, is to _not _make friends, because then you'll eventually have to either _kill _that friend or _watch _them die, and that's really scary. It's why I need to make an ally that is older than I am, not my age and certainly not younger. The problem there is that there aren't exactly that many options. I feel like, if I stick to Tierra long enough, she'll let me and we'll team up. That's my goal, I think, because I know that she won't kill me if she sees me, I just know it!

There's that optimism for you. I don't know Tierra at all, and yet I'm quick to put my trust in her, because she's from my District.

And it'll either be a blessing or a curse.

* * *

_I could have these Games done in a day and a half if we weren't forced to put on a show._

**LAURENTINA'S POV**

Laurentina Vandoren.

The most kickass daughter ever. Loyal girlfriend to a boy I hate but makes Daddy happy. Trainer. Student at the Academy. Volunteer.

District 2 female and for-sure Victor of the 41st Hunger Games.

Short but strong. Vicious. Menacing. Victorious at every endeavor. Intimidating. Kick.**Ass**.

Golden blonde hair with dirty blonde highlights. Freckles. Bright, piercingly-blue eyes.

I am going to win. Just because my father never got the opportunity or the privilege to volunteer doesn't mean I'll do anything less than Victory. In fact, it gives me some extra determination to go out there and kick some poor-people ass.

See, Fabian may make me out to be a lazy slob because he's convinced that he's the greatest thing in the world, but what even he doesn't know is that I've been training at the Nate McIalwain Academy of Future Tributes since I was _three years old, _and yes, I do deserve to volunteer. He's just jealous that my father's the Head Trainer at the Academy. In fact, I'd say he's jealous that I _have _a dad. Ha! Filthy orphans!

Fabian's shown me everything he can do, which is surprisingly shabby considering the amount of "hard work and effort" he's supposedly put into it. Even Pride, the schmuck from District 1 that needs to just kill himself, isn't as good at _anything _as I expected him to be! Ha, I thought he was supposed to be better than me at everything! What a loser.

Part of me is just so disappointed that I didn't get put with _anyone _that even remotely seems to be competition. I really got stuck with the rotten eggs, I'd say. I could have these Games done in a day and a half if we weren't forced to _put on a show, _in the words of my mentor. Unfortunately, though, I'm stuck with the losers from One, the boy from Four, and Fabian, until I can either turn on them of just cause minor accidents that result in their painful deaths.

Maybe if I feel merciful, I'll try to make it hurt just a little less.

* * *

_I have to keep going until the very end, whether that means the very end of the Games or the very end of my life. _

**DIANNE'S POV**

Dianne Larson.

Daughter. Sister. Friend. Girlfriend. Factory worker.

District 6 female in the 41st Hunger Games.

Tall. Fairly muscular. Quiet. Calm. Not one to panic. Polite. Scared but not one to show it.

Dark hair. Eyes that change colors depending on what I'm wearing so much I can't call it one way or another.

I am not as sweet as my name sounds, I promise you that. And I'm certainly not as nice as you would think I am, considering I learned, (in three days, thank you very much!) how to throw a spear and actually hit a target. It's probably my best asset thusfar in life, and now that I'm in an Arena, it will probably turn out to be an extremely important one. I haven't taken the time to think about allies at all, but now that I look back, I think that I might have to consider it. As to who, well, I guess it just depends on who I end up running into.

Now, if you're curious, I'm strong and not as starved as the others because I work constantly and get an almost-substantial diet, something that's fairly rare in District 6. I'm 16 and have an older brother and a boyfriend at home rooting for me. Whenever I start to give up, I think of them and I keep on going. It's probably the only motivation I have to get home, knowing what the Capitol does to Victors.

Yes, I completely believe the prostitution rumors. Each and every one of them. It's something the Capitol would do, and it's something that I barely want to happen to me. But I do have people to come home to, so I guess I can't give up just yet. I have to keep going until the very end, whether that means the very end of the Games or the very end of my life. I really really _really _hope it's the first one. It will be. It _has _to be.

_10, 9, 8, 7… _

The clock is going too fast.

I want it to stop.

I don't want these Games to happen.

* * *

_It's actually really scary to think about. Killing people…_

**TEEGAN'S POV**

Teegan Jin.

Little sister. Best friend forever and ever. Pretty daughter.

District 10 female in the 41st Hunger Games.

Short. Average weight. Bouncy. Energetic. Giggly, usually, but now it's all serious.

Dark red hair that has wide curls. Dark blue eyes to go along with it. Freckles on my nose and cheeks.

Oh, hi there! Hello! Yeah, that's me, up there!

I'm Teegan, I'm 14, and I really really want a dog. My District partner Mick has two of them, and they both have very strange names. He told me once that the names actually mean something to some other group of people somewhere out there that don't speak the same language as we do. Weird, right!? What is that language called again? Gee, I barely remember. Oh, it started with an I, though!

Ok, alright, back on-topic. Hunger Games, right. Killing people, super.

It's actually really scary to think about. Killing people… And the fact that there are a bunch of bozos who think that this is actually fun and that they would all really like to kill people, which is crazy to me, but you know…

So, uh, how about I talk about my family? I have two older siblings: they're twins. There's a boy and a girl, and they're 16. Uh, they're just a teeny bit spoiled by our parents, and I'm just a teeny bit neglected, but, uh it's really no big deal, really. Sometimes I wish twins weren't so special, though. I'd actually like to get some of the meat my family buys. Oh, no, I do, I do, sometimes, on my birthday and other special holidays, I really do.

No worries.

I'll be fine.

I'm always fine.

And I'll be just fine when I brave the ordeals of being a Victor, too.

And I'll be just fine, even if it's with my last dying breath.

* * *

**_A/N: TADA! Alright, that's all the tributes. So, now it's up to you to help me a little! The Cornucopia battle starts next update and now the readers will start being able to participate kind of! Next chapter I'll post the point values for sponsor items and we'll see where it goes from there. Ok, here we are! _**

**_QUESTION: I need one or two tributes that you would like to see make it past Day One, and one or two that you wouldn't exactly mind/want to die._**

**_For reference, here's a list of the tributes: _**

**_ONE: Pride and Candle_**

**_TWO: Fabian and Laurentina_**

**_THREE: Avogadro and Fahrenheit_**

**_FOUR: Reginald and Blanche_**

**_FIVE: Rhett and Penny_**

**_SIX: Lincoln and Dianne_**

**_SEVEN: Luther and Jocelyn_**

**_EIGHT: Nolan and Liana_**

**_NINE: Ian and Josie_**

**_TEN: Mick and Teegan_**

**_ELEVEN: Reed and Tierra_**

**_TWELVE: Salem and Antoinette_**

**POINTS:**

_**Kate: 126**_

_**Lgkavanagh22: 19**_

_**Dreamer: 136**_

_**Jess: 231**_

_**maxlvr101: 7**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**Turtlewithwings: 62**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**TheInkBender: 2**_

_**swimmyfinnick1: 4**_

_** .Strange: 33**_


	4. DAY ONE: Pride,Blanche,&Avogadro

_Five… Four… Three… Two… One. The Hunger Games has officially begun. _

* * *

**PRIDE'S POV**

I've been waiting for this day for years and years and _years. _

_I remember, all the way back when I was nothing but three years old. I sat on the floor and sucked on my fingers and watched the Hunger Games for the first time. My Mom and Dad were so proud, and they smiled the whole time they showed me the video of the event. From what I saw of it, it was a rerun of the 1__st__ Games. They show that one to the kids first because it's least violent of all of them. Not to mention that the Victor is from One, which is always a good thing back home. I watched the TV so intently that my Dad immediately knew that I would be a Victor someday. From there it was all just an exponential affect. Four, five, six, I'm determined to be a Victor, seven, eight, nine, ten, ready to go into training. From eleven to seventeen, I watched all forty Hunger Games over and over again, and trained with every weapon under the sun. I can name all 40 Victors and give a District for each, as well as name the District 1 boy for each Games. I can even name most of the 1 girls. Age eighteen, I was chosen to volunteer, and now I'm here. And from nineteen to the rest of my life I will be a Victor, no question. _

This is the moment. THIS IS THE FUCKING MOMENT!

As soon as I hear the gong, just like I'd practiced, I spring into action.

And I never thought it would feel this good.

I sprint to the Cornucopia, running easily past all the people happily and arriving first at the golden horn. I take a sword, my favorite of the weapons I tried, and hold it in my hands, taking a moment to savor this. The moment right before my first kill. I see Fabian run over second and we exchange a grin before he runs in the horn and grabs a spear for himself.

The 10 girl skips over and looks afraid, and tries to get a backpack for herself, but I stop her short with a sword through her neck.

My first kill. I take a deep breath, smiling. Finally. I've been waiting at least 15 years, probably closer to 18, for this moment in my life. And it's here. I grin as Laurentina skips over and gets an assortment of throwing knives for herself, and then Reginald, taking a bow and arrow and Candle last, grabbing her double-swords with much satisfaction.

I go on a killing spree, finding and killing the little boy from 6 and the tall girl from 3. Nobody will get past me to our supplies. _Nobody. _

We fight the others until there are no more people except for myself, my allies, and a bunch of dead bodies on the ground.

"I can't wait!" Laurentina says excitedly, "We have to count the bodies _now!" _I like how this girl thinks.

Together, the two of us count the bodies lying on the ground, dead.

I count five, Laurentina counts four, for a grand total of nine.

Fabian especially looks like he might be sick. The loser. I smack the back of his head teasingly, "Come on, big guy. Man up and let's go searching for water."

I take the lead and the others flock after me. I'm the leader and the man of this alliance. Not Man-dle, Reg-twit-ald, Gay-bian, or even Whore-ntina.

Heh. I'm really clever, aren't I? Clever, strong, and sexy as _hell. _

This has been the best day of my life and I think it's only going to get better as the week goes on.

* * *

**BLANCHE'S POV**

As soon as the gong rings my voices and I take off towards Fritz. He disappears suddenly out of nowhere with a scream, causing me to stop and cover my ears with my hands. I scream as I fall forward, feeling a hand squeeze my arm and shake, trying to "snap me out of it," as my Mom says.

I don't understand what they mean when they say things like that. I wish I did. I just recite to people what I've been told my whole life: My name is Blanche Tawell. I am seventeen years old. I am insane. I hear things that other people don't hear, and see things that other people don't see. And now I am in the Hunger Games.

It's a very simple philosophy that I live by, and though I don't understand a lot of it, it's something that I have to continue living with.

I have to keep on surviving, just like every day.

_GET UP BLANCHE!_

_WHAT ARE YOU DOING BLANCHE? _

_RUN!_

_TO THE CORNUCOPIA! _

_NOW! _

They all shout at once. I listen to them, though it is overwhelming. I get up and run towards the golden horn. I get careful as soon as I get near it, and scale the edge, practically refusing to breathe as I try to sneak inside the mouth.

I run straight into Reginald, and he makes a _woup! _noise before staring me in the face.

He was one of the lesser-talked-to people back home, and though he is a whole year older than me, we've got to talking a little, sometimes when we were both sitting by ourselves and the voices were simply whispering in my brain we would have little conversations. But we were never friends.

He stares at me and suddenly holds out a backpack to me.

"Take it," he says, "And run."

I smile a little bit… Can't help it.

"Thank you," I whisper.

He nods and I give the tiniest nod back before I turn around and run off, into the vast beyond.

I just hope I can hold on to my sanity.

After a while of traveling I decide to stop walking and take a seat on one of the shorter blocks. I look around and notice that, hiding behind one of the largest blocks in the Area is the little girl from 12. Her dark, wavy hair covers her eyes in my view.

"Antoinette, right?" I whisper.

_BLANCHE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! _

_AN ALLY!? _

_YOU'RE CRAZY! _

_STOP IT RIGHT NOW! _

I don't listen to them, even though it hurts. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to silence the voices, just for now.

A gray eye peeks at me. "Blanche," she whispers.

"Hi," I whisper.

"Hm," she whispers back.

"Do you have anything?"

She shakes her head quietly.

"I have a backpack," I whisper. "We could share."

The voices scream at me to stop it and run now, but she's just a little girl. I think she's thirteen, Fritz's age. I can't just leave her with nothing.

I try to smile at her and she gives me a smile back.

_You're an IDIOT!_

_Look at this, you STUPID GIRL! _

_What the hell is your family gonna say when they see this!? They're going to FREAK! _

_Come on BLANCHE! WHAT the HELL are you DOING?! _

I cover my ears again, hoping for them to go away. It's always a hopeless dream of mine.

"Are you alright?" Antoinette asks quietly, coming out from her hiding place.

"F-Fine," I stammer.

"If you say…." She says quietly, sitting next to me.

I take a deep breath. I'm convinced that this little girl might be able to help me survive, even though part of me doubts that she'll be any help. I can't be by myself… It's too dangerous. Even if she has no survival skills or fighting ability whatsoever, she'll help keep me at least a little sane. And that's all I need to survive.

* * *

**AVOGADRO'S POV**

The Games begin with the ceremonial bang of the gong. Pride is the first to jump off his plate, like I'm positively sure he's been tirelessly waiting to do for years.

The others take off soon after, all of them running to the Cornucopia at once. I stay a distance behind them, knowing that I'll never be able to get to the supplies of the Cornucopia without getting mauled. But gosh, it's so tempting…

I run straight into Ian and I fall backwards on my butt, though he isn't nearly as impacted by the fall because he's extremely tall and I'm so much smaller than him.

I scramble to my feet just as Ian makes a gurgling noise and spits out blood, falling forward with a knife in his back. Laurentina must not have noticed me there, because she's gone when I look up.

I don't pause. I take the supplies he had in his hands and the knife in his back and run for it.

Yes, I hate the thought of what I really am doing, but I can't let guilt catch up to me right at this moment because all these Games are about is survival. Not only is it a physical game, but it's also a mental Game: I have to hold on to my knowledge and use it to the best of my ability, and I can't let my emotional game get any weaker than it already was.

So meeting with Fahrenheit will have to wait. I see the Four girl run away and decide to run the opposite direction. I run through the wooden toy box until my feet hurt and I have to stop to catch my breath.

I sit jump from block to block until I'm sitting on top of the highest one in the area and pant. Boy, I really wasn't ready for that.

But hey, I have a backpack! I have supplies, thanks to… Ian…

Gosh, no… My stomach flops when I think about the scene at the Cornucopia.

Maybe my stomach hurts just because I ran so much. Since my body had to run excessively, I feel extremely sick already, with a pounding headache. It's also probably because I spent all morning eating.

Yeah, that' sit…

But on the bright side, look at me now! I barely thought I had a hope to survive, let alone get any supplies, but I'm here!

It's not officially set in stone that I survived Day One in the Arena, but I survived the Bloodbath, which means I didn't place last. It's sure better than my statistics of winning.

I open my backpack and look inside at the supplies I have. I see a jar of some light brown substance: oh gosh, I think it's… Peanut butter! I've always wanted to try it, plus it can be an important source of protein! There's also a container of crackers, an empty canteen, and a sweatshirt that looks _huge. _

Well, it's not a lot, but I feel like I hit a jackpot at a lottery!

I put everything back and take the pencil I brought as a token out from behind my ear, where it always is unless I'm doing calculations or essay drafts.

I start writing out numbers, statistics, and my thoughts as to the minimum amount of the food I have to eat each day to survive, in hopes of making it all last, though the supplies are limited. I just have to estimate the nutrition facts for these things, so I just hope I can guess correctly.

After some writing of calculations, I hear footsteps approaching and when I look up, I see a cut-up boy with blonde hair. He has a weapon, too, a machete. He notices me on my high block and walks closer.

"Please don't kill me!" I resort to begging. "Not day one, please!"

The boy from Ten stares at me a while and then shakes his head. "I'm not going to kill you," he says. I can't say I trust him.

I stay sitting up on my block and watch. Mick puts his weapon down and holds his hands up.

"Don't be scared, Three. I'm harmless."

"Sure don't look it," I whisper, crawling closer to the edge of the block to get a better look at him.

"I am," he says.

There's a pause and then I get the balls to ask, "You want to be allies, then?"

He provides a small nod, "If you're up for it. If not, I'll leave you be."

Horray! YES! WOO! An ally! I sure as heck needed one! I try to contain my growing excitement, "Yeah, sure."

It doesn't sound as calm as I had hoped, but not as excited as I feel. He flashes me a smile. "Cool." But Mick looks like he wants to hug me, but instead, he holds out a fist, like he is slowly trying to punch me but stops short.

What the heck is he doing? I blink up at him, confused.

"I'ts a, uh, a fist bump. Have you never heard of it before?"

I shake my head. "I, uh…" gosh, this is embarrassing… "I didn't get outside a lot. Had to stay in doing school work because everyone says I'm extremely intelligent."

Mick blinks at me. "Really?" he asks. I provide a silent nod. Al lthe other kids, even in the Arena, got outside.

"That's too bad. If you win, you should go outside more. For me."

I bite my lip to keep from frowning. I don't want to think about it.

I'm sorry, but if Mick had a brain at all, he wouldn't want to think about it at all.

Considering that, if and when one of us wins, well, the other will be dead.

* * *

_**A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates lately! I promise I'll try to be better about that. Here are the points (I have lots of calculations to make, don't I :X) **_

_**QUESTION: Who's POV of day one would you like to see in the next chapter(s)? (The Cornucopia deaths are (by District): Fahrenheit, Rhett, Lincoln, Dianne, Jocelyn, Ian, Teegan, Tierra, Reed). Sorry for those of you whole lost a favorite but that's how it turned out! **_

_**POINTS: **_

_**Kate: 138**_

_**Lgkavanagh22: 19**_

_**Dreamer: 148**_

_**Jess: 248**_

_**maxlvr101: 7**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**Turtlewithwings: 62**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**TheInkBender: 2**_

_**swimmyfinnick1: 4**_

_**Beauty. Is. .Strange: 45**_


	5. DAY ONE: Liana,Penny,&Fabian

**LIANA'S POV**

The gong rings and I take off forward, slipping past the boy from Four as he helps his District partner out by the Cornucopia. I grab a backpack but don't get lucky enough to grab a weapon before I'm noticed and have to take off running.

I run through the wood, past the blocks and all the other tributes, not looking back. Suddenly, I collide with a strong figure, but I don't recognize who it is until I hear his voice.

"I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL EVERYONE AND YOU AND-"

It's Nolan! Thank God, he was just the person I was secretly hoping to find.

"Cool it, Big Guy," I say quietly. He doesn't stop flailing as he waves around the scythe he got from the Cornucopia and shouting swear words, mostly fuck.

"YO! CALM IT, BIG GUY!"

He stops flailing and stares at me growling and with his weapon up. I put my hands up and lower my voice to a warning tone, "Calm down, Big Guy, it's just me. Chill out, cool it, it's only your friendly dru-" I'm about to say _friendly drug dealer from District 8, _but I bite my tongue just then and correct myself, "Your friend from District 8, Liana."

He puts his hands on my shoulders, crazy brown eyes darting around. He whispers, in a husky voice, "Doyouhavedrugs?"

"Sh," I tell him, and whisper, "No I don't but we'll get some soon, I promise. Just keep hanging in there, Big Guy."

He squeezes his eyes shut and nods rapidly, jittering anxiously. I keep my hands on his shoulders now and whisper, "Just hang in there, Big Guy, we'll get you something… "

He keeps nodding rapidly and quickly and looking around like he's fucking crazy. I sigh and let him go. "Come on. Let's go, Big Guy." I get my backpack and start walking forward. Nolan scurries after me.

We walk together for a while, him jittering and me trying to stay calm, just for now. We camp out that night and he volunteers to stay awake. I breathe a sigh of relief and decide to let him, before curling up as best as I can on the wooden ground and trying to sleep.

The wood hurts my head and soon I realize I will never be able to sleep like that. So I decide to instead curl up and lay my head on my District partner's lap. Though he's jittering, it's better than the ground.

"What the hell are you doing!?" he hisses, "Trying to make a move on me?!"

I actually laugh. Loudly.

"As _if!_" I giggle. "I'm a lesbian, I will never love you. No, but your pudgy lap is a lot better than the hard, wooden ground."

His brown eyes glance down at me and he seems to calm down. They flicker down until he looks me in the face. "Fine. Stay."

I smile up at him in the dark. "Okay." I yawn, already feeling tired, "Night."

He whispers back, "Night." I see a small smile spread across his lips as he looks down at me. His hand touches my head gently and my eyes flutter closed. He strokes my hair gently, though he is still shaking slightly from withdrawal. Before I have a lot more time to think about it, I doze off.

* * *

**PENNY'S POV**

The gong rings out and I take off, running away from the Cornucopia as fast as I can, just trying to not die. I suppose that's what's the Games are about, right? I runs through the scenery until I reach a fork and have to randomly choose where to go.

I pick left, always left, and take off again, feeling much too winded to run. I walk through, looking around. Suddenly, I notice a figure in front of me. She stares at me and I stare back at her. I dunno what to do, because neither of us has a weapon.

"Hello…" I say quietly.

She blinks. "You're talking to me?"

"I guess… Yeah. Sure."

"Oh." There's a pause. "Hi."

"I'm Penny. You?"

"Why would you want to know my name? Why do you care?"

I blink, not sure how to answer her.

"I mean, it's a fight to the death. I'd really prefer not to know anything about any of them. They're all going to have to die for me to live. And I don't need these people to be anything more to me than empty faces."

"Oh…" I say quietly.

She finally glances back up at my face. "Uh, I'm Josie. The whore from District 9."

"Right."

"I…I guess it's gonna be kinda hard for us to kill each other."

"That means…. We're allies?"

"Uh…" she bites her lips. "This is a terrible idea… This is a terrible thing I'm going to get myself into."

"Alright…"

"But fine. Let's be allies. But… Over this period of time… I'm going to be focused on being able to kill you. Because that's what the Hunger Games are."

I provide a small nod. Josie sighs, "I see you have nothing, too."

"Maybe we'll get something a little later."

"Maybe…" she sounds like she doesn't believe it, though.

I climb up a block and Josie joins me, as the sun sets and it becomes nighttime. The sky is dark and starry.

"Would you like to go on watch?" she asks.

"Uh, yeah. Sure." She nods and curls up in a ball and closes her eyes. I glance over and then stay on watch, looking around and taking in my surroundings.

* * *

**FABIAN'S POV**

Pride, that prick, takes control, just as expected, and starts walking to find water as soon as the cannons go off for the first day. Laurentina, that slut, follows at his heels like a puppy. Candle walks calmly beside her, leaving myself and the boy from Four to bring up the rear.

As we walk deeper into the toy box, Pride starts going on about his journey to volunteering, like we actually care. He goes on about his "humble beginnings" and his rise to fame. Nobody is even the slightest bit amused, but the girls listen, probably in hopes that they'll get to tell their stories next. Too bad Pride can't shut up to save his life and babbles about himself.

I try to tune him out but it's a little hard when he's so obnoxious, arrogant, and _loud._

I suddenly hear a new sound to focus on: humming. And it's coming from beside me. I glance over at Reginald, who doesn't take any notice of me at all but keeps on humming. It doesn't take long for me to recognize the song: _Horn of Plenty, _otherwise known as the Capitol national anthem. He stares straight forward but has a look of satisfaction on his face, because how can you _not _be happy if you've figured out a way to drone out the biggest douchebag in the Arena?

He snaps out of his daze when his hard, green eyes come into contact with mine. "Uh…" he stammers.

"Your humming is nice. Better than Pride's story," I whisper.

"What _isn't _better than Pride's story?" he asks back quietly.

I provide a silent laugh, "His bragging."

Reginald cracks a smile and says, "I'm glad at least _one _person in this alliance is rational."

"Maybe it's because I didn't grow up like they did."

"Neither did I. Or, at least, what I've heard of their stories."

"I'm an orphan. What're you in for?"

"Only child. Single Mom. Can't imagine being an orphan, though."

"It's a different life, alright. Have to be _everyone's _big brother. Or, little brother, depending on ages."

"I…I never had that worry. I've always been interested in siblings, though."

"Let's switch places for a day. Or a month. Or life."

He provides a small laugh. "If only it were that easy. And if only this wasn't a fight to the, uh, death."

I get awkward immediately, sorry I brought up such a topic. "Uh, right…"

He goes back to his walking and humming, and I decide to do the same.

And, it's really nice to drone out Pride.

We find water, walk back to the horn of plenty, and organize our stuff.

The good news? There are some plushy sleeping bags provided!

The bad news? There are two for an alliance of five.

The sky gets dark and soon the Capitol anthem plays. Reginald sings under his breath, and I just watch in bewilderment. The kills flash in the sky:

Fahrenheit Becker, District 3

Rhett Wimberly, District 5

Dianne Larson, District 6

Lincoln Frazier, District 6

Jocelyn Turner, District 7

Ian Harper, District 9

Teegan Jin, District 10

Tierra Morrison, District 11

Reed Hutchcroft, District 11

The seal flashes one last time and then fades away, and then we decide to talk about our arrangement of sleeping bags.

Pride pitches out the idea of him permanently getting one to himself (he has a reason, though, of course: he is obviously the most important part of this alliance and any injury will result in chaos for us), but all four of us snap at him about it so he pouts. We decide to have two on watch, one in one of the sleeping bags, one in another, and one being able to lay on top of the two of them together. Of course, Pride is willing to let either of the girls sleep _with_ him, even though I'm pretty sure he said he has a _girlfriend. _

Reginald and I decide to go on watch first, with Pride and Laurentina in one sleeping bag, and Candle in the other by herself.

The stars appear up on the ceiling, and though it's obvious they're not real, they're still pretty.

Reginals and I sit side-by-side against a block, watching for any signs of movement.

"Do you fish a lot?" I ask him quietly, "Considering you're from Four?"

"A little. I spent more time training, though."

"You sound committed."

"I suppose. Guess I don't have much to go back to, though."

There's a long silence before I speak up again. "I, uh… I saw what you did for your District partner."

"Huh?"

"It was considerate of you. Was she your friend, back home?"

"Not exactly. She's schizophrenic. Neither of us got talked to a lot so we always got paired together. For school stuff, and fishing partners."

"What happens when we find her, then?" I whisper, glancing over. His eyes look conflicting and I notice that he has a habit of biting the insides of his cheeks when he's in thought.

"Then maybe I'll give Pride a mirror to distract him."

The comment earns a laugh from me and he cracks, too, just a little.

"Seriously, though. What happens?"

He rips his gaze from me and looks up at the stars, leaning his head against the wall. "I dunno. I…I'll just… I'll just let whatever happens happen. Maybe I'll turn on Pride and the girls then."

"Would you really?"

"Depends how early."

I blink. "You left me out of that list."

"Fabian, I like to be an open book. Honest, even when it can be brutal. But I honestly wouldn't mind if you won the Games. If Pride won…" he glances over to where the blonde boy is sleeping, "I guess we'd all be dead, but I would sure hope the families would all be outraged. However big or small they are."

"You're saying that you're going to kill him first?"

"And the two girls, as well."

"Then what?"

"Then we keep going and kill some others. Then we turn on each other, and I'll kill you then."

I cringe, "Right." Bow and arrows would be a pretty sucky way to die.

He provides a small smile before looking back up at the sky. "Pride is ignorant to be this trusting of us."

"He is, isn't he? It'd be easy to kill him right now."

"It'd be the best time, for sure. I wouldn't dream of killing any of them when the others were awake, but it wouldn't be so bad when everyone's asleep."

"How _are _we going to sleep? It's so hard to trust people who are so determined to win, like them."

"Good question, Fabian. Wish I had an answer for you."

I provide a small shrug. Then we sit in silence.

I'm yawning every five seconds by the time we get to wake Pride and Laurentina to take watch. They glare at us as they climb out of their sleeping bag and sit where we were sitting originally. I walk over to where Candle sleeps, but she is all curled up in such a way that neither of us could possibly get in there if we tried. I look over to where he glances at us.

"She's in a cocoon," I mutter.

"No problem. You get in. I can just lay perpendicular to you."

"That won't work. You'll never sleep like that."

"Who says I need sleep?"

"Me. That's who. There should be no problem with the two of us in one. They're pretty roomy."

He blinks at me and then at the sleeping bag. "Uh… Alright…" he sounds hesitant.

I climb in and he glances over at Candle before joining me.

"Let's spare us the awkward and sleep back to back," he says quietly. Pride and Laurentina snicker, and I hear her whisper the word, "Fag."

I roll my eyes but agree silently with Reginald, rolling over on my back and closing my eyes.

It's my first night in the Hunger Games, and it's finally over with.

* * *

_**A/N: I'm giving out a free gift! And it's called, GUARENTEED SAFETY (for a period of time)! I have a poll open and I would love it if everyone voted for their favorites. The person with the most votes by, uh… *shrugs* Sometime in April will get a guaranteed spot in the final 4 or 5. SO VOTE AWAY! **_

_**CHAPTER QUESTION**__**: Which alliances do you think will be the strongest? Which will be the weakest? And which alliance/alliances do you think will tear apart first? **_

_**POINTS: **_

_**Kate: 143**_

_**Lgkavanagh22: 19**_

_**Dreamer: 160**_

_**Jess: 253**_

_**maxlvr101: 7**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**Turtlewithwings: 62**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**TheInkBender: 2**_

_**swimmyfinnick1: 4**_

_**Beauty. Is. Strange: 45**_

_**Here are the point values to get things! (I forgot I didn't post this before…) **_

_**BATTERY (for flashlight/lanterns): 5 **_

_**Bandages: 7**_

_**Small Canteen (Empty): 7 **_

_**Large Canteen (empty): **_

_**Blanket: 15**_

_**Pillow: 15**_

_**Functioning Flashlight: 20**_

_**Small Canteen (with water): 25**_

_**Simple foods (bags of jerky, crackers, or dried fruit): 25**_

_**Well-functioning Lantern (will not burn out): 30**_

_**Basic First-Aid Kit: 30**_

_**Socks/shoes/shirts/extra articles of clothing: 35**_

_**Iodine (to disinfect water): 40**_

_**Large Canteen (with water): 45**_

_**High-Quality Food (bread from a District, meat, broth/soup): 45**_

_**Knife: 50**_

_**Tribute's Favorite Capitol Meal: 50**_

_**Insulated (Plushy) Sleeping Bag: 55**_

_**Complex First-Aid Kit: 55**_

_**Medicine: 55**_

_**Tribute's weapon of choice: 60**_

_**If there's anything else that I've forgotten that you would like to provide for them, don't be shy to send a PM. If you don't have enough for something but would like to give it, send me a PM, too, and I'll bet I can find someone willing to split with you! **_

_**Also, there's an option of including little notes from the sponsor, too, which should always be fun. :D So, uh, please vote on my poll, and reviews are greatly appreciated! Alright, thanks for reading!**_


	6. DAY TWO: Mick, Josie, & Reginald

**MICK'S POV**

Avogadro is a cute little kid. I sure wish I wouldn't have to think things like that in a fight to the death.

He looks over, yawns, and sits up, feeling around the ground for his glasses. I smile and put them on his face for him, and he blinks sleepily up at me. "Mick…"

"Mornin', sunshine."

He blinks and sits up without saying good morning back. Guess it was a long and sleepless night for him.

"Is that your natural haircut or do you just have crazy bedhead?" he asks, yawning. My hands go to my head and I shrug, "Uh, it's what my Mom did for me, like, a month or two ago. It probably needs cut again…"

He shrugs and says, "I already _know_ mine's unkempt. But that's just how it's going to be."

"Yeah, I guess. I usually end up wearing a hat when I'm outside, anyways, so it's all covered."

His eyes fill with wonder again, just like they did before when I mentioned outside. "It's still a wonder that you've spent time outside."

"My whole life," I tell him, "There isn't a pair of pants in my closet that ain't stained with mud."

"I can't imagine it. Not at all."

"Yeah, and I can barely imagine being _inside _for a full day, let alone your whole life."

"But how can't you? I mean, a life like that's fairly simple to imagine."

"Uh…" I honestly dunno. I get confused a lot when Avogadro talks. He spent yesterday evening telling me about his plans to split the food and all kinds of stuff about calor-whosits, and all kinds of energy and stuff all about nutrients. He spewed out so many numbers so fast that I had a hard time keeping track. Today, I don't even remember a single one of them.

But, Avogadro is the brains of this alliance, so I let him do all the thinkin'. I'm the brawn, so I guess I'll be the one that primarily does the fightin'. After all, I've got a weapon.

If you asked me which of us is more important, well, I wouldn't be quite sure. 'Cause I may be able to fight, but I can't even _begin_ to do the stuff Avogadro's doing. I don't even really know what energy is or does. What's it matter to me, anyways? So maybe he's more important to helping me survive.

Then again, Avogadro's a smart little bugger, but if he were to run into the Career pack… Well, there'd be lots of carnage, I would think. He's small, and he doesn't even really have a weapon. It's my weapon, and I'm the one that's there to save 'im. Hopefully I won't have to do any savin', though.

He plucks the pencil from behind his ear and starts scratchin' down more numbers and figures and muttering to himself. I try to pick up on some of the stuff he's sayin', but it's too much for me. Way too many big words.

See, where Avogadro's spent his whole life in a classroom (which, for me anyways, would be personal hell), I didn't go to school a day past fifth grade. While I spend my life runnin' around with animals, I guess Avogadro's spent his _inside. _

I finally perk up again when I hear him mutter my name, and when I look at his figures now, it's a diagram of the Cornucopia. He looks deep in thought, grinding his teeth across his bottom lip with a crease in his forehead.

"Well, let's see now…" he mutters, "I ran… That way… Went there…" He makes a curvy line with his pencil. "Met Mick… Eh… Here… Ish…" he sounds calm, but looks agitated to be guessing at this. "And we walked… Here… Ish…"

He goes back to the beginning of the diagram, and I see all the tributes lined up in order. I find myself and find that he's right about the tributes to my right and left.

"Wow Avo!"

"Don't call me Avo. _Don't._"

"Hasn't anyone ever called you that before?"

"No. Avo isn't my name, therefore _don't call me that_."

"It's like a nickname, though!"

He blinks, "A what?" Shoot. Now that I've brought up another concept that he doesn't understand, I'll have to explain it to him: and have to try and answer all his questions.

"Nickname… Like, a pet-name."

"A _what?" _

"Well, I just keep gettin' tired 'f callin' you by the whole four sound-thingies-"

"Syllables?"

"Yeah, that. Your name's real long, and that's just makin' it shorter."

"I don't understand, why would you want to shorten it?"

"So that I only have t' say two sound-thingies-"

"_Syllables," _he says, clenching his teeth, "_Syllables." _

"Yeah, syllables, right. So I only have t' say two syllables instead 'f four."

"But _why? _Avogadro's my full name, and people should respect that, dammit!"

I blink at him. Saying something quite like that's real out-of-place for 'im.

"What?" he says, confused. The more confused Avogadro gets, the more agitated he looks.

"Th…That w's a little bit of a snotty thing t' say," I remark in a low grunt.

"…It was? But Mom says that all the time to Dad. Except it's when Dad calls me _Squirt _or _Sport, _not something like Avo. Thought it still applied."

"No offense kiddo, but your Mom sounds like a real bitch." He winces slightly when I call him kiddo, but then looks taken aback, eyes wide.

Then he just takes a breath and mutters, "Uh, none taken. Anyways, back to these diagrams…" he traces out the path I must've taken to meet with him. There's a long and awkward silence between the two of us.

"I've never had one of those _nicknames _before. Did you?"

"Sure did! Sure do, actually."

"How do you shorten Mick?" he asks, thoughtfully, and starts muttering to himself, "M'ck, uh…"

I smile, "Not like that. Like, the head of the ranch I work for, Leo, he calls me Blondie."

"Blondie…" he looks up at my hair. "Wow, that's cute!" He suddenly gets really excited and says, "Does that make me Reddy then!?"

I laugh, "Uh, that's not usually the term that's used. You're a ginger, so I'd call you Ging."

"Wow! Ging!"

"But it doesn't just have to be about hair color. I _could _call you Avo, or if you want a pet-name, Avy."

"Avy? That's SO CUTE!" he bounces on his knees excitedly. He does really remind me of a dog sometimes.

"You can just call me Avo, though. Or Ging." he grins and whispers, "Is this what rebellion feels like?!"

I have to smile back, but I just shrug. Then he hunches back over his diagrams, blocking out where the Careers may've gone based on the direction they were going, and which tributes met. He goes on about how there're so many chance-thingies that Blanche met the 12 girl and/or boy, and that Josie met the 5 girl or maybe 7 boy. He taps his pencil against his chin and thinks.

"Why're you just sittin' here? We could be out _exploring!" _ Now I'm the one that bounces impatiently.

"That's dangerous, though. It could get us killed. We could walk straight into the Careers and they'll kill both of us on the spot."

"Yeah, but we _could_ die by just sittin' here, too. They'd find us and we couldn't run away. There's always some chance-thingies-"

"_Statistics." _

"Right, that. Anyways, there are always some stat-thingies-" he blows the bangs out of his eyes, frustrated, but lets me continue: "that we're gonna die. No matter what we do or where we go, we'll always have a chance of dying. This is a fight to the death."

I stand up and smile, "Come on. You need to stop sittin' around 'nd doing smart stuff, and come do somethin' fun with me!"

He bites his lip but stands up, "O-okay…"

I grin and start walking, and he follows.

* * *

**JOSIE'S POV**

"_Mom… Dad… I'm bisexual." I cringe, looking for a reaction. My Mom looks close to tears and my Dad looks half-terrified, half-furious. _

"_You ungrateful little child," he growls at me. I step backwards and hit a wall. "YOU UNGRATEFUL CHILD!" _

"_I'm not a child anymore! I'm sixteen!"_

"_That means nothing! You're still young and you're stupid!" _

"_Why can't you please just respect me!? Just once!? I know I'm not the son you wanted and I'm not the hero you wanted in a child and I'm certainly not the Victor you've always wanted me to be, but please. Please, just put it aside and please give me this one!" _

"_What happens if you trick yourself into thinking you're in love with a girl, huh Josie? Cruelest joke I can imagine. How are you going to have kids, huh? How are we going to get grandchildren!?" _

"_You're not." I hope I don't sound as scared as I am, because I'm supposed to be strong and rebellious, not terrified and cowering. _

"_Then what? Had you been a boy this would've been so much easier." _

"_Well I'm not a boy, alright!?" _

"_We had such high hopes," my mother sighs. _

"_Hold on now." When Dad says that, something awful is about to happen to me. _

"_We can still get her back. We can." _

"_How?!" my Mom asks, looking ready to cry. _

_My Dad's eyes glint and he smiles, "Don't worry, I have a plan. Off to bed now, with both of you." _

_My Mom obeys quickly, but he grabs my shoulder and says, "Don't expect to get much sleep anymore." He chuckles lowly as I stomp off to bed. _

It ruined my life. Because the way they tried to "get me back" was by forcing me into prostitution. We didn't need it at all: we're one of the most stable families in the District, financially. But my parents thought that they could change me by making me see the realities of sleeping with both genders. And, because I "blatantly disobeyed their wishes" by not wanting children, they never gave me protection for these endeavors.

Needless to say, I've avoided some pretty narrow situations. I've already had a miscarriage to some 30-year-old and at least twenty different scares when I felt sick. Soon, I've found that I just get paranoid every morning after when I sleep with men. Women are a little better, because I guess I don't have to worry about accidentally getting pregnant.

Needless to say, my entire reputation went out the window. My friends would've stayed by my side, but they decided that since it wasn't out of a need for money, it was just because I _wanted _to be a slut. And nobody wants to be friends with a whore in general, let alone a whore that's actually slutty.

I haven't told them the real story. I haven't told _anyone _the real story, and I never will. My father would kill me. I'm not even joking, he would_ kill_ me. Maybe I should've, just so he'd put me out of my misery before the Capitol could. Because let's face it, even if I win the Games, I will never be free, and I'm doomed to a fate of sleeping with Capitolites and face an imminent death by the Capitol.

Before, I was just doomed to a life of sleeping with people from my Ditsrict and facing a fate of getting pregnant with some random guy's baby and being forced to take it anyways. Maybe _it'll _be a boy and my parents will take him instead and kick me out and I'll have to try and keep myself together by sleeping with _more_ people for _more _money and face an imminent death by starvation. Like that's much better.

So, either way, I'm screwed. Even if I found someone who loved me, I'd barely be able to return it. I'm way too shaken up for it, especially now. Not like I'm going to find anyone that I love in the_ Arena_, of all places. All I have here is Penny, and she's cute, but way too nice for my taste. Liana, from District 8, is a lesbian, but she's very sarcastic and she has the weirdest sayings.

As for the boys, a lot of them disgust me. Pride is so arrogant I want to throw up, Fabian tries too hard, Avogadro's young and he looks, like, seven, Reginald is too quiet, Luther isn't even able to love, Nolan's a druggie, Mick's too immature, and Salem is an all-around asswad.

Well, at least one thing's going my way in this Arena. Now all I have to do is prevent myself from making friends with Penny and I'll easily be able to win this thing, and face my fate when I get there.

* * *

**REGINALD'S POV**

I think that being honest is important, so I'm going to be nothing but honest: I've come to really take a liking to Fabian. Also, I don't care what Pride thinks, but sleeping with Laurentina in a sleeping bag should count as cheating on his girlfriend. I swear to God I want to murder him.

But, I'll save it for later. After all, a Career killing his allies gets him lots of sponsors, on most years, and I don't need any sponsors until later in the Games, until we run out of supplies. Then again, I guess anything I could hide from the others would be nice. Or even another sleeping bag. First off, I can't keep sleeping with Fabian. It's surprisingly comfortable, but the teasing from the others drives me _crazy. _ The other reason is just so we literally don't have to watch Pride and Laurentina act like they really love each other.

Because let's face it, as soon as my bow's on Pride's head, this alliance is _gone. _What I'd like to see is Laurentina kill Pride, because it's obvious in her eyes that she's just waiting for the perfect moment to do so. So, I guess you could say I've got everyone in this alliance figured out. Well, except for one.

Candle. She often sleeps on her own and never says more than two words unless she's asked. She's either hiding the fact that she can't kill, or she's secretly deadly and tricking all of us, just waiting for the perfect time to kill all of us. It's a devious strategy, but smart. She could win the Games, easy, if she really is hiding. If not, then she'll be easy to kill. I'll have to pay more attention to her before I make my judgment.

As for Fabian, well, he's just a sweet kid. Pretty innocent, which is surprising because he's an orphan. You'd think he'd be the most experienced with death out of all of us, as opposed to Pride who keeps claiming that he's seen things that I doubt he's ever actually seen. As for Fabian, well, he certainly wouldn't kill him. It appears that (without even trying to, mind you!) I've gained his trust. Butterflies flutter around in my stomach when I think about it, because I still haven't put my trust in _him. _

Then again, I won't be putting my trust in _anyone_.

But, if I were to kill the alliance, let's just say I'd have to hesitate before I shot Fabian. Hopefully _he'd _hesitate to throw his spear right through me. Because if I don't win, I want _him _to. Or, someone like him. Blanche.

Anyone but Pride, really.

As I stay up in the night for my watch with Fabian, I plot my attack on the others. I shoot Pride first and then Laurentina, and then Candle and then I let Fabian attempt to fight back before taking him out, too, no matter how unpleasant it is.

But that plan might not work, if I end up having one of those sentimental moments. They don't happen often, but they've been getting more and more frequent, just a moment where I forget my plan to take out Fabian and replace it with the idea of a mini-alliance. I keep re-replacing the thought and forgetting it, though.

I'll just have to focus on his chest, not his pleading brown eyes.

* * *

_**A/N: HEY PEOPLE! I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE! ESPECIALLY YOU PEOPLE WITH LOTS OF POINTS! IF YOU DON'T USE YOUR SPONSOR POINTS I'M GOING TO BE WRITING SPONSOR GAMES UNTIL THE DAY I DIE AND PAST IT! XD I really need some kind of writing inspiration to twist the plot, so PLEASE SPONSOR SOMEONE PLEASE DON'T BE SHY! Also, the tributes would all very much appreciate it. **_

_**Also, there was a TIE for guaranteed safety (for the three people that voted XD) so I'm keeping them both safe until the final… Eh, five or six or so, maybe seven. One or both is on my list for possible Victors. Keep voting though, if you haven't already, so we can get one clear winner! **_

_**CHAPTER QUESTION**__**: Which tributes/alliances would you like to see go head-to-head or turn on each other? Who would you want to die, and who would you want to win the fight? **_

_**POINTS: **_

_**Kate: 150**_

_**Lgkavanagh22: 19**_

_**Dreamer: 160**_

_**Jess: 253**_

_**maxlvr101: 7**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**Turtlewithwings: 62**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**TheInkBender: 2**_

_**swimmyfinnick1: 4**_

_**Beauty. Is. Strange: 45**_

_**Remember, point values are all on the A/N for the last chapter, PM's with item ideas are always welcome, and you have the option of adding a sponsor note. Please! **_

_**Thanks for reading! ~**_


	7. DAY THREE:Josie,Fabian,Avogadro,&Liana

**JOSIE'S POV**

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. _

God, that's annoying.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. _

What _is_ that?

I sit up and rub my eyes sleepily. Penny yawns and her eyes are following a silver object as it floats down to the ground right in front of her.

"Eh?" I ask, trying to form words. Guess my voice is the last part of me to wake up.

"Sponsor," Penny responds, holding back another yawn.

Finally, I think to smile. "Penny!" I croak out happily. "Sponsor!"

She looks over, her eyes lighting up suddenly. "Sponsor!" she says, reaching for her glasses. She slides them on her face and we both crawl over to the parachute. I have to admit, this is surprising. After all, I'm the girl from District 9, and she's the girl from District 5. Not Careers, not even close. But one or both of us must've done something right, to get anything from a sponsor.

The two of us scramble to the parachute. God, we're both acting like such idiots. But we're tired, who can blame us!?

Penny lifts the lid off the silver parachute and we look inside.

Little bags of food.

I have to admit, since it is in human nature to hope, I was seriously hoping for something like a pillow, but I'll take food. In fact, I'm glad it's food, really. At least I know we won't starve, even if that's for a little while.

There are bags of jerky and a pack of crackers in there for us.

Penny smiles up at me and I grin back down at her, pulling the bags out of the container. I've always wondered how they disposed of parachutes in the Arena. After all, I've only seen them on the television, with the Careers getting sponsor supplies and leaving the canisters behind. The parachutes weren't shown again after that.

This is so exciting! It's fairly rare that someone from the outlying Districts gets items from a sponsor: and Penny and I just did!

That oughta show my parents what I'm capable of!

They're just so strict and unhappy with me that they'd probably make an inappropriate joke about my body, anyways. That's their favorite thing.

The thought gets me down but I don't let it keep me there. After all, I have an ally that's wonderful, and now we have food to eat! That's always a positive, right?

Things are finally looking up for both of us. Thank God.

* * *

**FABIAN'S POV**

We're greeted by a delightfully pleasant surprise. Finally, a sponsor.

Pride jumps up. "A sponsor! Oh, I knew they'd come for me!"

Reginald looks over at me and cracks a half smile. "That's a joke," he says to Pride.

The blonde boy looks over and scowls at us. "Oh, please. Who in their right minds would sponsor _you?_"

"We're not losers, Pride. Not here," Reginald points out, staying very calm and not even showing a little bit of emotion. I really have to commend him for that.

"You'll always be losers." Pride walks closer to the parachute but I find myself close to exploding. "You have no idea who that's for! We're not idiots, Pride. We have just as much a chance of winning as you! Reginald could have an arrow through your skull before you can even count to ten!"

I feel a warm pressure on my hand as Reginald squeezes it, helping me zone back into reality. Just as fast as he took my hand, he lets it go. Laurentina bursts out laughing, "The twats are in LOVE!"

I heave a sigh. I never should've spoke up. Now both of us are going to get hell.

But once again, the District 4 boy comes to my rescue, keeping his calm demeanor perfectly in tact.

"We could say the same thing to you and Pride."

Laurentina looks shocked. Nobody's ever talked back to her like that before.

"That's nothing, you twat, and you know it."

He smiles. "Really? Because you did sleep together. And I definitely heard him purring in your ear. Where was he touching you under there, anyways?"

"Nowhere." She scowls.

"Oh, really?"

"I have a girlfriend, asswad!" Pride screams, holding up his sword.

Reginald puts up his bow. "Easy there, bud. Remember, this is a bow and arrows and all you have is a sluggish sword."

Laurentina has a knife in her palm and I hold on tightly to my sword.

"Wait a second…" Pride says, lowering his weapon, "Where the hell is Candle!?"

She's disappeared.

"She borrowed one of my knives and went!" Laurentina whines, "That bitc-"

"That what?" The District One girl jumps off the tree branch she was sitting on. But when we all see her, we're all shocked. She chopped off her hair. She has short hair.

"Here," she gives Laurentina her knife back. "Thanks."

"You cut your hair off!" Pride squeaks.

"Yes, I did. It's not that short. I was tired of having it so long and I'm here to win. Now put your weapons down and let's open our gift."

Reginald smiles slightly. "Come on, Fabian," he whispers, as we go to look in the container. Pride pulls it out and says, "YEAH! It's my very own sleeping bag, finally!"

"Look again," Reginald says. He points to the bottom of the sleeping bag where the hammer and fish hook symbols are printed. It's for us.

"Aw, the pussies finally have a new sleeping bag to share! So cute!"

I pick it out of his hands and say, "Actually, it's for us to separate." I like sleeping with Reginald's warmth, but this will finally get the others off our backs, and that's all I need right now.

"Thank God, too," Reginald says, "I was really starting to get annoyed with the bastard from Two."

"Isn't everyone!?" Pride howls. I scowl, trying not to look hurt. Then we walk off to start hunting.

* * *

That night, Reginald and I are on watch first. I don't look him in the eyes, as the other three doze off. There's a long silence between us. I shouldn't be getting this hurt. I have to kill him, eventually.

But I can't help how depressed this makes me feel.

"You know I didn't mean it, don't you?"

"You said you tell the truth all the time."

"A couple of well-constructed lies work, as well."

"What?"

"Don't worry. I like you, Fabian. I won't lie. Yet."

I nod, trying not to feel relieved.

There's a pause. "I think it's time to wake up Pride."

"Yeah, good idea."

We wake him up and Luarentina, then take our separate sleeping bags.

"Night," he gives me a small wink and a smile. His green eyes are the last thing I see before I fall asleep.

* * *

**AVOGADRO'S POV**

I wake up to loud laughing. "Av, wake up!" Mick shouts.

I reach around and grab my glasses, then sit up and put a finger over his mouth. "Sh. Wouldn't want to attract-" The next word was supposed to be _tributes, _but I hear a familiar beeping that gets me to shut my mouth.

Silver parachutes! THREE OF THEM!

I wake up immediately, feeling an electric charge of happiness through my body. I let out a loud laugh myself, "Holy heck!"

Mick laughs and says, "Thought that'd wake you up real quick!"

"Uh, really quickly," I correct. His horrific grammar is really astounding to me sometimes.

I'd never like to attempt reading something Mick wrote, because if he can't even talk straight, it seems impossible that he can get any kind of logical thought written on paper.

Plus, I've been informed by Mick's interview that he didn't go to school past fifth grade.

Well, anyways, here we are now, getting three silver sponsor parachutes.

I have no idea which of us won the favor of the sponsors, and I have no idea when it happened, either. Maybe it's was Mick's training score: an 8. Maybe I reached out to the Caiptol's geniuses by not talking like a complete idiot in my interview. Then again, my escort wasn't so happy with how it went.

_The interviewer's name is Yin Kozart. This year, his hair's white with black, shaggy bangs. His eyes are dark gray, almost black, but not quite the black of his pupil. They're framed by big black glasses. He wears a dark suit and a white tie, with shiny black dress shoes. _

_I've been forced to wear a black shirt and gray pants with a pink bowtie tied uncomfortably around my neck. I'm ready to torture the Capitol. I'm mad enough at them already._

_He leans back in his chair. "So, Avogadro-" _

"_Uh, excuse me." The microphone is held to my mouth. I express my concern, "Uh, you sound especially nasal and annoying today, compared to how you sounded on my television. Does the media do wonders or are you getting a cold? If you're getting a cold, might I suggest you take some-" _

"_Ahem, I think my allergies are acting up just a little bit, but it's all under control, I assure you. Now, back on topic-" _

"_Uh, your tie isn't straight. Did your styling team even put any thought into this!?" I reach over and help him adjust his tie so that it's as straight as I can get it without a compass. _

"_I'm sure they did," he says with a light, insincere laugh. The audience howls with laughter._

"_Yeah, they're not very good at that. Anyways, uh, please, go on." _

_He growls, "What a nice young man you are." _

_I smile, "Oh, yes! I've been called adorable by my parents many times and I've been called lovable by so many other people, including our escort!"_

_Yin keeps on a completely straight face. "You're just charming." _

_I don't even care that it's sarcastic, I'll take it for all it's worth. "Wonderful, now I'm charming, as well!" _

_I'm angry at the Capitol. And, though I can't outwardly say that without getting a target on my back, I can still look innocent while secretly expose them for the clowns they are. It's one of my many master plans, though few of them work. This one will. It already is. _

"_Of course." _

_I grin. By now, the audience is howling with laughter._

"_Anyways, back on track. Please. What is your favorite thing about your life back home?" _

"_I don't do a lot. I study and interact with my parents' friends. I don't have a favorite part." _

"_Good for you." He's still not amused. "Anything else you would like to say before the end of the interview?" _

"_Yes." I grin, "Your sight must suck. Those are some thick glasses." _

_My buzzer rings and he smiles, standing up and holding up my hand, "Avogadro Bismarck, everyone!" the audience howls and cheers._

Yes, if I gained sponsors, that's why. Then again, those government officials seemed fairly interested in me, as well, as they were guiding me to my stylists.

I open the first can and find iodine. "YES! IT'S IODINE! GOOD OLD LETTER I!" I get really excited. Now we can have safe water. Who knows what other tributes can only dream of having something like this?!

I look back inside and find a lantern. "Mick! A lantern!" He grins, trying to match my excitement (which I appreciate). "Wow! Way cool, Av! I think it w's your interview."

"Yours was alright. Though I was bored and didn't pay much attention."

He sighs but smiles anyways, "Uh, right."

"Well, what else did we get!?"

Suddenly he hits me in the face with something and I squeak. But it's a soft something. It's a pillow.

"Aw!" he grins, "That was cute!"

My face turns red. "Yeah…"

Then he hands me a blanket. "Lookie, Gadro! We have a place to sleep!"

I smile, feeling like I do on my birthday, but even more thrilled because these are things that will help us survive.

Mick reaches into the smallest one and pulls out something small and silver.

"It's a watch!" he says, happily, opening it up. He stares at it with a blank face. "That…That's not a watch. This here's trash."

"Let me take a look." I pick it up from his hands and actually let out a squeal. I jump up and bounce around. "NO! MICK, IT'S A COMPASS! IT'S A COMPASS! WE CAN FIGURE OUT WHERE WE ARE, KIND OF! A COMPASS!"

He looks at me blankly. He doesn't understand the significance. But that's alright. He soon matches my excitement again and says, "We're sure going to sleep good tonight, Av!"

"Sure are!" I'm so happy I don't even correct his grammar.

* * *

**LIANA'S POV**

I wake up to Nolan running toward a block, hunching over, and throwing up. He's losing it.

"Come on, Big Guy. You're alright." I walk over to him.

"God, I-I-I-" he takes a big breath in, "I need them!"

He forcefully puts his hand on my shoulder, eyes darting around crazily. "I need it!"

"You're alright, Big Guy!"

"M-My chest is tight!" he inhales deeply.

"You're just imagining things." I bite my lip, "Stay with me, Big Guy."

Sweat runs down the side of his face. He jerks his hand out, shakily putting my hand on his chest. His heart beats hard and fast.

"I h-haven't slept for _days. _I'm losin' it!"

That's the truth. "Stay with me. You'll be alright."

Suddenly, we hear footsteps approaching.

"You can fight whoever it is, Big Guy-" he shoves his scythe in my hands and hides behind me. I can't tell why until I notice who it is. The towering boy from Seven. Luther.

His bangs are plastered to her forehead with sweat and he holds up an axe he got at the Cornucopia.

"On three we roll out of the way," I whisper to Nolan. He runs toward us and I shout, as fast as I can, "One, two, three!" Then I duck and roll and when I look up Luther throws his axe through my ally's chest. Delayed reaction time.

A cannon roars out and Luther turns to me. I hold up the scythe, stepping backwards as fast as I can. He retrieves his axe and holds it up. He looks me harshly in the eyes and growls, "Go."

I don't have to be told twice. I take off running, carrying our backpack and Nolan's scythe with me. I don't have time to feel any kind of emotions, not now. I run until I physically can't anymore, then climb up onto a block, sit, and wheeze.

Suddenly, my thoughts are all forgotten when I see a silver parachute floating down and landing right next to me. When I open it up, I find broth. I find broth! I have broth! Delicious! I take a couple simple spoonfuls of it: can't eat too much at once: and eat some of the jerky I found in my backpack. Then I take a tiny bit of water from the full canteen I found in the backpack and drink. I'll have to go looking for a stream tomorrow.

The sun sets and that dreadful Capitol anthem begins to play. I make myself watch the holograms up in the sky, and see the one lonely fact up there. That one insane, crazy, addict face from District 8.

The boy from my District… My friend… My number one customer… He's dead.

Nolan Rinehart is dead.

I surprisingly don't feel emotional. I don't feel sad at all, and I won't cry. He was asking for it. He was going insane, anyways. It was better and I know it and therefore I'm not sad.

In fact, I'm baffled. That Seven boy spent his interview saying how he screwed up he is and that he won't leave any tribute alive and unharmed.

And yet, he let me go.

Luther Pultzer let me go.

I'm alive.

* * *

_**A/N: Thank you for all your sponsorship! The tributes all appreciate it! :D Keep it coming! **_

_**Chapter Question: Which three or four points of view do you want to see in the next chapter? **_

_**POINTS: **_

_**Kate: 125**_

_**Lgkavanagh22: 19**_

_**Dreamer: 60**_

_**Jess: 133**_

_**maxlvr101: 7**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**Turtlewithwings: 62**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**TheInkBender: 2**_

_**swimmyfinnick1: 4**_

_**Beauty. Is. Strange: 32**_


	8. DAY FOUR

**LIANA'S POV**

I sit by myself all day, organizing my supplies and making sure everything is in order.

I sip broth all through the day, thankful for the fact that someone likes me enough to give me something so nice like this.

The evening comes and night, and as the sun sets, I see a blinking light and hear a beeping noise as another parachute comes floating down towards me.

My eyes must light up: I feel so excited that I can't put it into words. I know that even just one sponsor parachute was a lot to ask from someone from the Capitol, and now I have two. And this one is pretty big, too!

The parachute lands at my feet and I open it up to look inside. There's a giant pillow-looking thing.

I pick it up and realize that it isn't a pillow. It looks more like... A sleeping bag!

I think about how I used to just sleep on Nolan's lap. Every time he'd freak out and ask me why I would be hitting on him in a fight to the death. I don't like making a big deal out of my sexuality so I just let him believe what he wanted. Nolan's not the brightest.

Also, he was so forgetful I was really getting frustrated. But I guess I don't have to worry about any of this now. And now I have a sleeping bag that feels really comfortable. I can't wait to sleep in it.

I hate that I have to sleep alone, though. I'm trusting that nobody is going to sneak over to me in the night and kill me. And now that I have such a comfortable place to sleep, I'll probably sleep right through my death.

But when the sun sets I realize I'm tired and haven't had a good night of sleep in days. I suppose just one night of deep sleep wouldn't hurt. I'm so tired I don't notice who died today, and fall asleep almost immediately after the last note of the anthem.

* * *

**LUTHER'S POV**

The sun sets and I see the face of the boy I killed in the sky. Nolan Rinehart. He was from District 8.

Just one more family that I'll have to face if I win the Games after all and have to go on the Victory Tour. One more person I killed that has people that love them, that will hate me if I come out of the Arena alive.

Part of me doesn't want to win. Not like I have anything special back home to get to, anyways.

But part of me is selfish. Obviously, I want to live: who doesn't? No matter how little I have back home, I'm selfish. I want to live, even if that robs twenty-three other deserving people of lives and twenty-three families of someone they loved. I already said how terrible of a person I am. They've all been warned.

I'd like the others to stay away from me. I'd like to stay away from then. But I can't run. What kind of person would I look like if I run away from a fight, after all that talking about how ruthless I am? I've set expectations for myself: in the Capitol's eyes, of course. I promised them a show and they would all forever hate me if I didn't live up to those expectations and more.

I sit up on a block and realize how little I've got. I've only got one thing, actually. An axe. But in terms of everything else, I've got nothing. I found some scraggly bushes with edible berries in between some of the cracks between blocks, but I'm still hungry. I found a small stream by the biggest block in the Arena, but I had a little of it and felt sick, so I'm not so sure it's totally safe.

Can the odds be in your favor and out of your favor at the same time? Because that's how I feel right now, to be honest. I mean, as for fighting, I'm covered. I have brute strength and a weapon, after all. But I don't have an ally, and I have very limited supplies. Then again, I wouldn't want to have an ally. I don't trust myself enough to try and protect someone else.

At this point, I barely trust myself to protect _me. _But I'm not giving up yet. I'm still selfish, after all, and will continue trying to live, no matter how hard it is for me, no matter how many lives I have to take.

Then again, I did prove I have some kind of heart. I let the girl from 8 go. I don't know where it came from, but it came from somewhere. Maybe that means I can still be redeemed. Which means that some good _could _come out of my winning the Games.

I just… I don't know. I'm confused and lost and don't know myself well enough to be able to know what to do. So I'll have to figure it out: and fast.

* * *

**CANDLE'S POV**

Yes, I am perfectly aware that I cut my hair. And yes, I have a reason for it.

First off, it's something major that is large enough to throw the others off their game. Especially Pride, who's been leering after me all week long even though I'm fully aware he has a girlfriend back home. She was looking a little puffy, too. No, no, forget I said it. I know both of them are whores, but they're _safe_ whores.

Anyways, the others were surprised for sure, and definitely thrown off. Unfortunately, Fabian's too busy making big brown puppy eyes at Reginald to care about me, and Reginald's too busy being awkward and quiet to notice something like me chopping off my long hair.

(Laurentina's jealous she didn't come up with it first, I'm sure. Either that or she's hitting on me, too, which is incredibly unlikely because that girl has a black hole in place of a heart.)

The boys are too busy throwing insults at each other to care about us girls, though. Laurentina is prominent enough, I think, and I'd be the last one taken out by whoever turns on them first. If it gets much later, _I'll_ be the one to do that. It'll just have to be the right time.

Staying quiet is definitely the best strategy in a shaky alliance like this one. It could snap at any one second, and the others will be so busy taking sides that I can slip out, taking supplies, and leave.

This is a game of strategy, more than it is anything. Strategy is more important than smarts, strength, or agility. No matter what, you can never succeed without having a strategy. Even the dumbest tributes can have a strategy and lives. You can see it in this Arena, even.

Pride is an idiot and he doesn't have a strategy, which will hurt him sometime, hopefully soon. Laurentina's strategy is weak: _make them love me then kill them. _Fabian is drooling over Reginald, who seems to be the smartest of all of them. While Fabian tends to his every need, he seems to be quiet and untrusting, which is smart. He's smart. The others will all die on their own, but he won't. Which means he's gotta be the first one to go.

I'll let someone else try before I go for the kill. The alliance has to separate before I try anything, though. It's just a never-ending time of growing tension between our alliance, all of us waiting for that moment at which the alliance is going to snap and we're all going to kill each other. Until then, I'll stay low.

Anyways, I got a little: or a lot: off topic. The other reason I cut my hair is because I've always wanted to do it and have realized that the time I have to do it is limited.

I asked my stylists to do it for me, but they wouldn't. They said that a District 1 girl couldn't be beautiful with a "dumb pixie cut." It only works on "guys and lesbians that want to be guys." My parents felt the same way. They told me I wasn't allowed because, if I had a short haircut, no guys would like me and nobody would think I'm pretty enough to date. The truth is that I don't care.

Yeah, hear that? I'm a girl, from District 1, that does NOT want to fuck anyone! Yeah, even though I have a crush on a boy back home (mostly just to satisfy my parents and friends, though, not because I love him) and even if I really were in love with him I still wouldn't want to fuck him! Because I want to have a more meaningful relationship than that, and I don't like people touching me. I don't want to touch anyone anywhere, except for the occasional hand-holding and cheek-pecking.

I'm an 18-year-old District 1 girl that doesn't want a relationship at all and doesn't want anybody's lips anywhere on me. So now you can say that you've met one.

My stylists must be wailing now, and my parents fuming. Pride's probably disappointed, too, and I don't even care anymore. Besides, Pride knows I have boundaries, and he knows it well. He's started calling me Mandle outwardly because of my hair, thinking that it throws me off. It doesn't.

That's where poor little Fabian goes wrong: he lets Pride get in his head way too easily, and it's obvious. Pride's gonna pick on the kid until he's driven to insanity. And Laurentina and Pride know that.

Something needs to happen: and fast. But I'll never initiate anything.

* * *

**LAURENTINA'S POV**

All of them need to kill themselves. Pride's a dick and a dork, Candle's an ugly waste of space, Fabian is a faggot and an orphan, and Reginald is a giant, sassy-ass wannabe that never even belonged in this alliance in the first place. We still have enough supplies that it isn't worth it to stick my knives in their faces, but they're all getting on my nerves, so I almost _want_ us to run out.

We're all _sucking _at killing people, by the way! We haven't seen a tribute for _days, _meanwhile someone already got the kill of that annoying 8 boy! It's because Fabian, who is already mediocre at _best,_ is distracted by his poor naïve attraction to the District 4 boy, a love that is certainly not returned (and if it would be, gross!) and Pride's too busy staring at my _ass _to have a single other care in the world! Fucking conceited Candle is more interested in her _hairstyle _than Victory, just like every single other District 1 girl here! As for Reginald, he's not even _mediocre! _In fact, I doubt he could actually kill: or even injure: another living creature, though he keeps saying he trained for war. Ha, what a loser.

I have to say, I knew that my alliance wouldn't be any competition, but I was hoping that there'd be someone to give me a little challenge on my way to Victory! And, I can't help that I was hoping for an alliance that could help me take the other tributes' lives in record time.

But no.

I had to get stuck with these dweebs.

My Daddy said he voted for Fabian just so that I wouldn't have any competition. I got mad at this, yelling at him about how he had no faith in me and how humiliating it would be to have such an idiot, such an immature little faggot, as a District partner! And yet somehow, he's here. He shouldn't be, God, he shouldn't be. But I guess, as long as I win, that's all that counts. It won't be a lot of work.

I like to play with Pride's heart and make him _think _he is the leader of the Careers. All he is, though, all he'll ever be, is my little puppet, to do whatever I want with. I call the shots here, and I'm the leader of this alliance. I use my little puppet Pride to get everybody moving early the next morning, in the direction I'm sure that at least somebody went. As we walk, Pride talks so loudly that he could probably be heard miles away, and I think he's scaring off tributes. Finally, after lunch, I get him to shut up by telling him how _great _I think he is and how _wonderfully _he's leading this alliance and how _soft _his hair is and how _beautiful _his eyes are and how _strong _he is and how _sexy _he looks, especially today. Of course, unlike him, _I _whisper, and stay on watch the whole time, randomly spewing out shit I don't even mean about Pride.

I hear music behind me and see Fabian and Reginald humming to intentionally ignore the conversation, but it's loud enough to scare other tributes, too. It's fairly easy to hide in an Arena like this, after all, and we might be able to hear a tribute or tributes _breathing. _

"Shut up, love-songbirds!" I hiss past Candle to the two dumbasses in the rear, "You're scaring off tributes!"

Both of them roll their eyes and hum slightly quieter, that Capitol anthem that they both seem to adore. Not that I don't like it too, but they _really _like it. Pride's about to start talking again before I cut him off. "Wow, your voice sure is dreamy, and I never noticed how nice your smile is!"

"I have a girlfriend," he mutters, but obviously likes the attention and the compliments, and in no way objects to my compliments. I guess that's the only way to shut him up, so I keep it up, as much as it makes me want to tear my hair out. It makes me want to kill him even more.

Oh, well. Daddy always said, "Patience is a virtue."

But to deal with these nimrods, I'm gonna need a _lot _of- That's it. That's it! I hear breaths, whispers, taps of very quiet and cautious footsteps. Tributes.

I stop and hold the others, who all look confused. God, these guys can't even hear as well as I can!

I hold up my knives and nod to them, as they all get the hint and raise their weapons. Then we attack the two girls that are hiding behind the block. I don't have time to think which Districts they're from, I throw a knife at the shorter of the two, who trips and falls with a scream as we catch up quickly. I throw a knife at the taller one, who had stopped to try and help the shorter one, but she has a backpack that she uses to catch and take the knife. Suddenly Pride throws his sword at the smaller girl, who yells out. She whispers a word to her ally, and then the taller girl takes off running. I try to throw another knife, but Pride taps my hand. "Wouldn't want to waste another one," he says, a smile playing at his features.

When I look back over, the girl, who I think was from Nine, got away. I shrug off his obnoxious comment as a cannon booms for the first girl we killed. Then I turn around to the other three in the back.

"WHAT THE HELL!?" I shout at them, "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!?"

"You and Pride seemed to have it under control," Fabian says.

"You didn't need us," Reginald adds.

"YOU LET NINE GET AWAY!"

"She'll be dead soon enough, anyways. She's alone and vulnerable."

The rage feels like it's going to blow my head off. "WITH A KNIFE!"

"That's your own faulty throwing," Reginald says, "That's not _our _fault."

"YOU LET HER GET AWAY!"

"So? We'll get her again, soon."

"BUT SOON IS NOT NOW!"

"Stop whining, goddammit," Fabian whispers. I throw an icy glare his way but leave it at that. I hate this entire alliance.

I'm really running out of patience.

* * *

**JOSIE'S POV**

_I tried. _

_I tried to help Penny up. _

_After she got hit by that Two girl's knife. She kept saying, "Go Jos, go Jos, go Jos…" over and over again but I tried anyways. Then I defended myself, to get the knife that I examine in my hands even right now. Then the One boy hit her with the sword and she collapsed. Her last word to me was, "Win." _

_Then I knew it was time for me to go, it was too late for me to be able to save her. So I ran. _

I outran the Careers. I got away.

But I lost my ally.

More importantly, I lost my friend.

Even though I vowed to never let Penny in, she still got in. She was just so sweet it was always impossible for me to say no to her. She told me about her home life: her little brothers, who she seemed to have so many of though she insisted it wasn't that many. Now they're all missing their big sister.

I never confided my story into Penny. She knew I had a nightmare about it in the Arena, but when I told her I wouldn't say what it was about, she never really pestered me again about it. I think it was for the best. She probably wouldn't have died such a loving death if she had known that I really have nothing to go back to, even though she did.

I hold onto the shiny black handle of Laurentina's knife. It's completely unused, except for when Laurentina tried to kill me with it. I know it's kind of terrible for me to hold onto such a reminder of Penny's death like this, but I could really use the extra defense, especially now that I'm all… On my own.

I hate feeling so alone. I want my ally back. I want us to be safe again. For a small period of time, I had forgotten the reality of death, living in a fantasy where not even death could tear apart our friendship, not even death could ruin my life, no matter who would be dying.

I hate to be back into this cruel reality.

I want to go home. Home when I was 15. Home before I was forced to spend my nights sleeping with people. Home before I dropped out of 10th grade because I couldn't juggle busy afternoons and evenings with working and schoolwork. Home before I lost all my friends. Home before I met Penny, and cared about her. Home, not in a fight to the death.

There's nothing I can do about it now. There was never anything I could've done about it, except for shutting Penny out and never making an ally, which I should've done from the very beginning. I hate myself for reaching out to her. I should've killed her when we first met, when I didn't care about who she was or where she came from or who she had waiting back home for her return.

Her body's probably being put in a box right now, with Rhett's in a box right next to it, being prepared to be sent back to her mourning family in Five.

Tears bubble out of my eyes, but I can't let myself be crying. Not now. I can't show my weakness to the whole nation. I can't show my vulnerability to everyone, especially not everyone back home. I wipe my eyes and make the tears stop before they happen.

The sponsor food, which made me grin every time I saw it at the thought of someone supporting us, just doesn't look appetizing tonight. I force myself to eat a small piece of jerky, but quickly put the bags back in the backpack.

The Capitol anthem plays and Penny's face flashes in the sky. When the seal reappears and disappears, I curl up, burying my face in my arms.

I cry silently into my arms for a long time, thinking about Penny's chaotic and weak words, then about her family, her poor family, mourning her, and about everything I didn't tell her that maybe I should've. She was a really great friend, even though I never wanted her to be.

The Hunger Games really hurt. Inside and out.

* * *

_**A/N: So sorry! Now's when it's going to suck more and more to start killing them all off. :( Anyways, sponsorship is still open, so make sure to send your favorites supplies before I exploit those weaknesses and start killing more and more of them off! **_

_**Chapter Question: How do you think the Careers should split up? Who should win the fight? Who should die? Who should split up afterward? I already have a plan but I want to know what you all think.**_

_**POINTS: **_

_**Kate: 137**_

_**Lgkavanagh22: 19**_

_**Dreamer: 72**_

_**Jess: 133**_

_**maxlvr101: 7**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**Turtlewithwings: 12**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**TheInkBender: 2**_

_**swimmyfinnick1: 4**_

_**Beauty. Is. Strange: 37**_


	9. DAY FIVE: Avogadro&Fabian

**AVOGADRO'S POV**

Mick shakes me awake that morning. My eyes open slowly, and when they do, I see Mick's grinning face just centimeters away from mine. I jump at the closeness of it, and his smile widens.

"Hey, Sunshine," he whispers quietly. I have to smile up at him, as sleepy as I might feel. His hair hangs down and tickles my face. "Hi there."

He sits up and helps me up before handing me a small breakfast. We both eat up and then we notice, in the distance, small puffs of smoke, or steam, or… Something.

"So, what's the agenda for today?" he asks, laying down on his back and watching the sky.

"What do you think should be on the agenda?" I ask. I guess I feel bad for not letting Mick make decisions, so I give him a choice today.

Mick stares at the clouds and thinks (or, at least, I _think_ that's what he's doing).

"I think we should look for the source 'f that," he points to the puffs of smoke in the distance.

"That might not be a very good idea," I remind him. So maybe I shouldn't have given Mick so much choice after all. After all, he has an outdoor spirit, and not much of a brain. His spirit often gets the best of him, especially at times like this.

"Who knows what could be over there?" I ask, looking over. "It could be mutts... Careers… Poison…"

"But aren't you curious?" he asks, as I lay down on the ground next to him, studying the sky.

I roll over on my side to face him. "Huh?"

"Ain't it your job t' find stuff out? As a scientist? Do it f'r _science_, Av!"

I try to come up with an argument but soon find that I'm not going to find one. So, Mick will have to get his way.

I sit up. "Damn."

He jumps to his feet. "Ha! C'mon, then!" He picks up our backpack and his pillow and blanket and slings them all over his shoulders. I take mine and put them on my back, too.

I take the compass out of my pocket and we start walking towards the little puffs.

Mick walks so fast I have to jog to keep up with him. Suddenly, he takes off in a run. "Mick, wait up!" I chase after him, running as fast as my short little legs will take me.

"Keep up, Av!" he cheers gleefully. Then, he turns around and stops, causing me to run into him before I can slow my momentum. Suddenly, he sweeps me off my feet and I make a squealing noise.

"Let me down!" I try not to grin, but I can't help grinning.

Mick puts me down and slows to my pace after that.

We walk together until the sun is high in the sky and we decide to stop for a small lunch. Soon, we realize that we're out of water.

"Uh, Mick? Shouldn't we probably try to find water to drink?"

He blinks, debating this. "Where'd you think we'd look?" he asks.

I think about it. I don't like not knowing. Maybe we should go toward the big blue block. But maybe I'd be… Wrong!

Oh, I can't stand to be wrong! Every time I'm wrong, I get hurt. Usually I beat myself around, when I don't know something. Scratching down my forearms until it bleeds usually helps me to remember the right answer. It's so that I can live up to everybody's expectations of me. I _have _to be that person that knows all of the answers, I can _never _be wrong.

"Well?" asks Mick. "Any ideas?" God, I don't want to choose. I don't want to let Mick down… I don't want him to think that I'm a waste of his time… And the statistics of me leading us to water are- plants.

Plants! Toward the blue block, there are small green plants sprouting in the cracks of the blocks. I decide to go for it.

"This way." I lead Mick toward the blue block.

"There are plants, all through here," I tell him as we walk. We walk until the terrain changes. The blocks become more and more overgrown with green plants. By the time we reach the water, the wood isn't visible and we have to step across leaves and vines. There's a stream of trickling water and there's a couple of trees there!

"Wow…" Mick and I exchange an excited look.

Mick throws his supplies down and I do the same. We kneel in the foliage by the water and fill our canteens. We see some shiny, silver fish in the water so I decide to disinfect our share with the iodine we got the other day.

Suddenly, our fun is spoiled when we see a group of tributes.

There are five in number, five of the most blood-thirsty people to step foot in this Arena. The Careers.

Mick raises his machete. "Run and hide," he hisses. "Go."

"I can't leave you," I whisper back. The two of us slowly start to back away.

"You won't be leaving me. We'll meet up later."

We almost made it, but the Careers spot us just then.

"Run," Mick says, "Run and I'll find you."

Finally my brain wins over my heart and I turn around and run.

"Go on!" Laurentina chants, smiling and looking over at Pride. The District 1 boy puts his sword up and I crouch behind a block to watch.

Mick hesitates to attack, but Pride doesn't. I cover my eyes with my hands but watch through a crack in my fingers. There are five Careers, after all, and there's only one Mick.

The others watch the fight and cheer for Pride, all holding onto their weapons in case Pride loses.

The two boys, though both are blonde and built strong, are completely different.

Mick has soft, gentle eyes that are brown like mine, but more like chocolate. Pride has bright cerulean eyes that sparkle. Mick has dimples and his hair is more golden, while Pride is more whitish-blonde.

Mick's haircut is slightly dorky and Pride's is more fitting, I think. Soon, though, I can barely tell them apart- both are covered in blood.

Then I hear Laurentina cackle, "About time Pride!" she grins and says, "Good work. What next?"

The boy from 4 smiles. "The boy from Three went that way." He points at the block I'm hiding behind, probably right at me.

"It was easy to see hi run away," Fabian says, "Because of his hair!"

I gulp, knowing that I might soon be the next casualty of the Careers. But, Mick's cannon hasn't shot off yet…

"You three," Pride says to Fabian, Reginald, and Candle, "Take their supplies."

Candle picks up the blanket and pillow that used to be Mick's. I feel like I'm going to throw up.

Fabian takes the backpack and Reginald takes my blanket and pillow. Candle runs ahead with Pride and Laurentina, but the other two walk.

Suddenly I hear a thumping noise as my supplies are returned to me by Fabian and Reginald.

I try to find words but they're gone before I can say anything.

Then my heart wins over my brain and I run to the body, seeing as I haven't heard a cannon.

Mick is dying. I assume he has about five minutes left or so, if he's lucky.

I run over and look down at his face. When he sees me there, ginger hair hanging down and almost touching his face, he lights up. Something in his eyes that was flickering away looked like it was coming back, even if it was just for a second.

"Av…" he whispers quietly.

I stroke his hair, not moving away from him, and nod. "Yeah. I'm alive, Mick. Thanks to you. You saved me, Mick…" I suddenly get hit with an overwhelming wave of sadness.

"Good," Mick says. "So… You have to win the Games, now."

I bite my lip. "I'll try. I mean, the probability of that, mathematically-"

He cuts me off, "Sh. Don't overthink it."

I provide a small nod, biting the inside of my cheeks to prevent myself from crying.

"I'll always be with you," Mick says, "No matter where you are. Your guardian angel."

I choke back a sob, "D-don't get so cheesy on me, Evans." A tear rolls down my cheek and his smile gets a lot sadder.

He chuckles weakly to himself, "Sorry."

I stroke his hair and try to hold it together. "S'okay," I whisper in a wavering voice.

"Don't be sad. It had to happen eventually."

"I know, but Mick, I just don't know what to even say to you. I mean, I just wanted to say thanks for-" I'm interrupted by a loud cannon booming, and I realize that whatever thought I was going to tell him is pointless now.

I quickly grab the supplies I got back from the Careers and run as fast as I can, using my compass, in the opposite direction than the Careers went.

When I look at the sky later, the sun is low and the sky is darkening. I climb up on a block and take some dinner, in an attempt to calm myself down from the events of today. Guess I'll have to recalculate my food-dividing, now that there's only one person, instead of two.

Though I now have a source of water, and food in the fish, I don't have a weapon anymore: or a fighter. Which means that I have to stay hidden.

The stars come out and I realize that this is the first night that I see them without Mick. Tomorrow will be the first morning I don't wake up to his voice and gentle shaking. Tonight is the first time I'll watch the deaths without him. He'll be up there in the sky.

I can't stop myself from breaking down this time. I'm really going to miss him. I cry until the sky goes completely dark and I hear the Capitol national anthem play. The seal flashes, and then Mick's face, alone, up there in the stars. More tears leak out of my eyes and I bury my face in my arms. Then the seal flashes one more time, to remind us that we're not in control of _anything, _and it all disappears.

Then, I sit by myself and start to think. If I win the Games, I'll have to stand in front of his friends, his family, even his dogs, and read words that the Capitol will have put in my mouth about Mick and Teegan. Threats will be put on me if I actually wanted to say anything genuine. But no, it'll be just as thoughtless and empty as the words on the paper.

I'm used to having words put into my mouth. Maybe it was because Mick was my first real friend, that I liked him so much. He never tried to change me. He never challenged me and never expected me to be anything other than myself. And he actually liked me. A lot, in fact.

I wish that could've gone on forever.

But, I guess that it was nice while it lasted.

* * *

**FABIAN'S POV**

We walk through the forest together, though Pride's practically bleeding to death. Boy, do we all wish he would.

After a while, Laurentina glares back at Reginald and myself. "Are you two dweebs _positive _he went this way!?"

Reginald remains calm, something I really can't do when dealing with her. "Laurentina, I am one-hundred percent positive where he went. Keep walking."

She keeps stomping along and whines, "And I can't believe you forgot the supplies! WE JUST FUCKING TOLD YOU TO GET THEM AND YOU LEFT THEM!"

I shrug, following the District 4 boy's lead and staying calm. "Wait… Are you implying that you're _afraid_ of a boy from District 3? I thought you could take _any _of them, no matter what they had."

She huffs and says, "I can. And I could take any of _you._"

"Besides, the Capitol'll probably pick up all the supplies before any other tribute can get to them, anyways."

"Fine. But _we _could've had them."

"Please, what do you think a _Three _boy could've gotten?" Pride says, agreeing with us.

"You're _really_ siding with the twats!?" Laurentina scowls.

"I'm allowed to have an opinion. Besides, they're right. That kid's good as dead, especially now that we're on his trail. Now shut up, all of you, and keep walking." He and Laurentina turn back around. Reginald makes a face at me and I exchange the look. Candle rolls her eyes and continues to look around.

We walk until it's night and we set up camp. Laurentina patches up Pride's wounds, and the Capitol anthem starts to play. Ten flashes in the sky and I soon remember the look on his pale ally's face when the fight starts. My stomach turns.

I have to take watch with Reginald so we can talk about this.

Laurentina forces Pride to get in a sleeping bag and sleep.

Reginald takes a sleeping bag, as well, and I say, "Laurentina, you sleep too. We can stay on watch."

"Nonsense. Four, sleep. You and I can stay up."

I shrug, swearing loudly on the inside and sitting against a block. Laurentina wraps up in the blanket we got from 10 and stares up at the sky. I look up there, too, and we don't talk for a while.

"Missing home?" Laurentina asks, in a genuine-sounding voice. I'm surprised but I just shrug.

"I don't have much home."

"I do. I miss it."

"That's a little surprising."

"What? You thought I was a cold, heartless, self-centered, merciless bitch?"

"Yeah."

She looks over and smiles at me, and I immediately know something's off.

"Well, Fabian Rockwell, you're right. I _am _a cold, heartless, celf-centered, merciless bitch!" She whips out a knife but her hand gets tangled in Mick's blanket.

She whips it off and whispers, "And I'm not even going to let you reach for your weapon."

She throws another knife and I jump out of the way so it only hurts my thigh.

"Can't run forever, _orphan_."

I suddenly run over and tackle her. But she was expecting that, I guess, because she and I go tumbling on the ground until I get her pinned. Then she knees me where it hurts and pins me down. She holds a knife to my neck and I struggle.

"Weren't you always going to die, Fabian?"

"I'm going to win!" She digs her knife into my forearm and giggles.

"You were _planning_ to get to the final two with Four, weren't you? And then suicide because you _wuv _him."

The response comes out later than I would've hoped. "I don't love Reginald!"

"You twat. We can all see it in your big brown puppy eyes. You _worship _him."

She digs her knife into the crease of my right elbow and I bite my lip to keep from screaming, and continue to struggle against her grip.

"Looks like the odds weren't in your favor after all, were they?" She presses the knife to my neck.

This is it. This is the end.

Suddenly, though, she makes a choked noise and flops over to the side, dead, with an arrow clean through her chest.

Reginald stands from where he was kneeling, a fair distance away from us. He slings his bow back over his shoulder, looking very graceful (which isn't very easy when you're a tall 18-year-old boy). He takes the body and carries it away from the others who were sleeping, me following.

"Listen," he hisses, "If Pride asks, 12 came and killed her and you tried to save her. We kill Pride and Candle tomorrow, and then I kill you. Or, uh, I try."

"Reginald, you saved me!" I whisper. "Really, that was totally cool of you. How'd you know what was going on?"

"Sleep is for the weak," he mumbles, though he seems sleepy.

I smile slightly. "Thanks, though. Really, thanks."

"Fabian, listen. I watched the whole thing unfold, and I was originally going to let it happen and not save you."

I swallow hard, knowing that though it's brutal, it's the truth. "Why'd you do it, then?"

"I'm asking the same question. There was something in my mind, in my system, that _made _me do it. And I don't know why, but part of me wishes I'd let her kill you."

I blink, nervous. "Is…Is there a reason for that?"

He looks at me with serious green eyes.

"Because I don't want to do it."

"Oh." There's a long pause as Reginald gets in his sleeping bag. "Good night, Fabian." But soon, Laurentina's cannon goes off and Pride jolts awake. He cringes at the pain of the sudden movement, but looks around. "Who died? Where's Laurentina!?"

"It was Twelve!" I say, letting out the hysteria of the night's events. "H-he came and killed her! I…I tried to fight him… But… But it was too late… He got away…"

"Why didn't you wake us, idiot!?" Reginald asks, wiping the "sleep" out of his eyes.

"Because Pride's injured, Candle wouldn't have woken up for me anyways, and Reginald aims his bow and arrows at whichever unlucky soul wakes him up. I…I thought I could take him. I'm sorry, you guys."

Pride blinks. Then he starts to chuckle. "Ha, ha! HA! Well, that turned out nicely, because she was getting a little intolerable." He yawns, "Wish you would've killed Twelve, but I'll take what I can get. You, dork, get some rest. I'll stay up." Pride sits up, trying not to cringe.

Candle sits up and yawns, climbing out of her sleeping bag. "I'll stay up, too." She stretches, sighing to herself.

"Ah, down to four. And what a _pity._"

_**A/N: Well, I just destroyed my own feels. *grumbles* Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter! **_

_**Chapter Question: I've started shipping, like, all of these characters together. So, what are some of YOUR favorites from the interactions/alliances? (Expect many fluff-bunnies in the chapters. There were already a lot of them.) **_

_**POINTS: **_

_**Kate: 142**_

_**Dreamer: 84**_

_**Jess: 157**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**Turtlewithwings: 24**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**Beauty. Is. Strange: 49**_


	10. DAY SIX: Blanche&Reginald

**BLANCHE'S POV**

Our area has been oddly quiet. We've found some berry bushes right near the block that we determined our camp, and there's a very small pond with water that doesn't look (or taste) very good but suffices well enough without killing us. We haven't had to move farther than about 30 feet from our initial block, and we haven't seen any tributes.

I just hope we can keep that up.

There's still quite a number of us left: myself and Antoinette, both of our District partners, Salem and Reginald, as well as Luther, Liana, Avogadro, both Ones, and both from two. But, someone died in the night last night: unless that was nothing more than a hallucination. I suppose we'll see it in the sky tonight.

So, if I am right (which I actually think I am this time; Antoinette woke up at the sound of the cannon booming), then there should be ten left. Which is less than half, but still in the double-digits. I wonder if it'll get into single digits by the end of today.

I've only had one big fit, and luckily Antoinette was holding the weapon when it happened. She tried to console me but, as I've told her before, there's nothing she can do that'll help me when I'm having a fit except sit with me and wait.

I've been known to hurt people who get up in my face when I'm having a really bad hallucination. I mean, the voices are there all the time, but when I see things: things like my brother Fritz in the Arena when he should be back home at 4, for example: there's nothing anyone can do for me.

Antoinette is a little girl, 12 or 13 (I keep forgetting), so I doubt she's really old enough to understand the importance of staying back and away from me. Sadly, I doubt she'll eve become old enough to recognize it: she's the second most likely to die, in my eyes, the first being myself.

I'm surprised that I even made it this far, to be completely honest. I'm just a crazy girl, after all, surrounded by people that _don't _hear voices all the time and _don't _hallucinate their greatest fears.

I think it was because I have the companionship of my ally that I've been down-to-earth lately. Obviously it's never going to be completely perfect, but, as I've said, I've been alright about the frequency of my hallucinations. They just all look so real…

The worst, though, is when Antoinette sleeps and I have to be on watch. I hear noises coming from all around, and I'm never sure if they're real. One second I'll hear footsteps from behind and run to check and make sure, the next I'll hear Pride's voice to the left, and run to check there, as well. Between hearing so many sounds and not knowing if any of them are real, I often spend my nights running around and checking. After all, you can never be too sure about these things in a fight to the death.

Since we don't have to travel a lot in the day and definitely don't feel the need to explore or find other tributes, we spend the day catching up on lost rest and keeping watch, as well. Keeping watch in the day is slightly easier than at night because I can see better, but still, I see things and hear things that I soon discover aren't real. I've even woken up Antoinette in a frenzy before for absolutely nothing. I'm really a terrible ally.

That afternoon (after a morning of restless, nightmare-filled sleep), I stay up and Antoinette falls asleep in a little ball of 12 (or 13, seriously, which one is it!?)-year-old and I try to sit still for once instead of moving around.

Suddenly I hear footsteps and jump up to check. I hear Pride's voice, coming from the same direction, and my heart rate picks up.

_Could it be that it's real this time!? _

Part of me is still telling my crazy side that I'm just hallucinating. It's probably right, but I have to make sure… I see them and hear them at the same time, from the same direction. That has to mean something, right?

Suddenly the voices in my brain start screaming and I realize too late that I'm going to go into another fit. Sure enough, I see my family in the Arena, getting impaled and cut and even blown up. Terrifying tiger mutts rip my mother to shreds, and I start screaming and waving around the weapon in my hands, trying desperately to get them away from the people I love. Suddenly I hear Reginald's voice: "BLANCHE!"

When the voices hush (slightly) and the figments disappear, the first thing I realize is that Antonette has a stab wound and is laying across my legs.

* * *

**REGINALD'S POV**

We're awakened early that morning by Pride, who seems a lot better as opposed to how feeble he was yesterday. He smiles at us and doesn't even make any rude remarks about Fabian or myself. Candle doesn't talk, as always.

Fabian and I talk quietly and I regret telling him my plans. He _knows _I want to kill the others today. Hopefully he doesn't kill me today before I have the chance to kill them.

Pride collects our stuff and we leave everything of Laurentina's that we couldn't use behind as we go on our trekking for today. As always, Pride's in the very front, and today Candle walks near him up there, to help him along if he stumbles on his injury.

Fabian stays in the back with me intentionally, but I know that I can't be friendly with him any longer. This is still a fight to the death, no matter how many people I've talked to, and no matter how many people I've assisted or saved. We're down to 10 now and I have a feeling the Capitol's getting impatient. I've given this a lot of thought, actually.

Now that there's not a lot of action, it's up to me to give them something to _cheer _for. And I'll do it today.

We walk until Pride finally admits weakness enough to take a break and sit down for lunch. We all notice that we're running low on food, but there's a lot of bushes by the stream of water we found yesterday. It's so hard to believe that we just found it: and killed the boy from 10: yesterday.

We sit in a square and have a quiet discussion about our lives back home: it's the first one that's been truly genuine between all of us. Fabian talks about being an orphan for a while, and though Pride has no vocal input, he nods occasionally. I talk a little tiny bit about fishing, but be sure to leave Blanche out of my story. Candle talks about her friends and her nice living at District 1. When Pride's turn does come around, he looks excited to be talking again (and even more excited when he realizes that we're all actually _listening_ for once).

"Well, I'vebeen forced- uh, I mean, I've been _shown_ the Games since I was just a kid. My parents… Yeah, they had big dreams of me winning the Games. My best friend wants to be a Head Trainer, so getting the spot was, uh, pretty easy." He and Candle exchange a glance that suggests they know something we don't. Fabian opens his mouth to ask but I elbow him hard enough that he doesn't. "I've got lots of friends back home. And my girlfriend, too." A grin unlike anything I would've expected spreads across his face. It seems somewhat (or a lot) genuine. "She's pretty damn cool. She's a year younger than me, so she'll volunteer next year." He pauses and then deflates again, muttering, "Or, uh, maybe… Not."

Candle blows her choppy bangs out of her eyes and faces us. "Fortune's preggers, if that's what you were wondering."

He sends a death-glare her way and snaps, "Shut up! She's not! She's not even close to pregnant, maybe she's just eaten a lot lately! She's only a little puffy, anyways."

But the conversation ends because Pride gets up and starts walking without another word. Candle soon follows and Fabian and I exchange a look before grabbing our bags and walking behind them.

We walk a little farther before we hear screaming and the second the sound registers in my brain, I know who they're coming from.

"Blanche," I mutter, under my breath, just as Pride lights up and says, "Come on, guys!" he starts running forward, as fast as he can with his injury, and the rest of us follow. I get my bow and arrow ready to shoot: and I don't mean my District partner.

We find them at once: Blanche is waving around a knife, having a fit, and her District partner tries to console her quietly.

"BLANCHE!" I shout, hoping some reminder of home might snap her out of it, just as Pride takes a knife and stabs the girl from 12. She flops over and falls on Blanche, and I don't delay, I pull out my bow and arrows and shoot Pride square in the back. He falls over immediately, as well, and then I turn on Candle. When I point my bow, she's already fled, running away until I realize it's pointless to waste arrows on her and turn to my final target.

Fabian stumbles backwards, obviously wishing he had been as smart as Candle and taken off, but now he's frozen, his brown eyes staring at me pleadingly.

_Do it now, Reginald. Do it now. Do it now or else you'll never be able to do it. _

I try to let go of the arrow, but my fingers aren't doing it for me. I have the perfect aim, the perfect shot, and if only I could just let it fly and kill him.

I stay aimed on him for a good five minutes, with him not even attempting to fight back, before I finally make myself see that it's better this way.

Suddenly, though, Blanche screams behind me and wails with hysterical tears, and I realize in that moment that I can't do it.

I drop the bow and arrows and go to Blanche without a word to Fabian, already cursing at myself for not shooting him. By the time I get to Blanche, two cannons have boomed. I kneel next to her, where she grips Antoinette's body tightly and sobs.

"Blanche, are you alright?"

"I killed her!"

I blink. "What?"

"I killed her! I was in a fit and I stabbed her!" she sobs, soon letting go of the bloody corpse and hugging my body tightly instead.

"Uh…" I get so awkward in situations with physical contact, but try to stay calm for her sake.

"Blanche, it wasn't you," Fabian says, obviously better at this than me, "It was Pride."

"I stabbed her! I saw it!" Blanche sobs miserably right into my chest.

"You were waving the knife around, but you didn't stab her. Pride showed up as you were screaming and he stabbed her, not you."

"I can't believe I killed her!" Blanche sobs for another long while, and I try to whisper reassuring words to her, but I honestly have no idea what to say. After all, only one of us will come out of here alive, so I obviously can't say, _"It'll all be okay." _I just whisper, "You didn't kill her," over and over, until Blanche calms down enough to listen. Fabian takes Pride's pack and hands her some water, and she takes a drink, immediately quieted.

"You alright?" I ask. She nods.

"Good." I stand up. "That's my cue to leave, then."

Blanche looks up at me. "You're leaving? To where?"

"I don't know. But we're down to nine now."

"So… So you're just going to abandon your friend from your home who can't fight for herself?" Blanche asks, widening her green eyes. "You're going to leave your schizophrenic friend who will most certainly die from terrible causes?"

I blink. Well, no that she puts it like that…

"Fine." I can't say no to her, anyways. She squeaks happily, gets up, grabs my right arm and kisses my right cheek. I involuntarily blush (Great. Just great.) and then walk, her walking with me and holding onto my arm.

"Oh, so you're both going to leave without _me?_"

Goddammit.

"You're going to leave without your friend from 2, who's nothing but a no-good orphan? Who will die if he finds 7 or 12, most likely? You said we were brothers, remember?" He gives me huge chocolate-brown eyes and mumbles, "Okay," before turning round in a dramatically depressed manner and slowly walking away.

Every inch of my very being curses but my lips say, "Fine, Fabian. You can come, too." He smiles and runs back over, taking my left arm and nuzzling my left cheek. I blush at that as well (_Really _great.) and mumble embarrassedly, "Was that really necessary?"

He smiles at me, "Couldn't be outdone by her," he says simply with a shrug, but he blushes a light pink. I look straight ahead and keep walking, still cursing at myself for letting them in.

I really, really wish I had let that arrow go.

_**A/N: Tada! (I feel like it's been a long while since I've updated this story…)**_

_**Chapter Question: Uh, hm… I need really EPIC FIGHTING songs. Like, any song that you could write a duel/big fight sequence to. So, could I please have some suggestions for those? (Really any songs will do.)**_

_**POINTS:**_

_**Kate: 142**_

_**Dreamer: 84**_

_**Jess: 157**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**Turtlewithwings: 24**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**Beauty. Is. Strange: 49**_

_**ALSO: Now that we're far-ish into the Games, I'm going to bump up the prices for sponsor items slightly. The tributes need your help, sponsors!**_

**_BATTERY (for flashlight/lanterns): 10_**

**_Bandages: 12_**

**_Small Canteen (Empty): 12_**

**_Large Canteen (empty): 20_**

**_Blanket: 20_**

**_Compass: 20_**

**_Pillow: 20_**

**_Functioning Flashlight: 25_**

**_Small Canteen (with water): 30_**

**_Simple foods (bags of jerky, crackers, or dried fruit): 30_**

**_Well-functioning Lantern (will not burn out): 35_**

**_Basic First-Aid Kit: 35_**

**_Socks/shoes/shirts/extra articles of clothing: 40_**

**_Iodine (to disinfect water): 45_**

**_Large Canteen (with water): 50_**

**_High-Quality Food (bread from a District, meat, broth/soup): 50_**

**_Knife: 55_**

**_Tribute's Favorite Capitol Meal: 55_**

**_Insulated (Plushy) Sleeping Bag: 60_**

**_Complex First-Aid Kit: 60_**

**_Medicine: 60_**

**_Tribute's weapon of choice: 65_**

**_Again, if there's anything else that I've forgotten that you would like to provide for them, don't be shy to send a PM. If you don't have enough for something but would like to give it, send me a PM, too, and I'll bet I can find someone willing to split with you!_**

**_Also, just for funsies, there's an option of including little notes from the sponsor, too, which should always be fun. :D So, uh, please vote on my poll, and reviews are greatly appreciated! _**

**_Thanks for your time!_**


	11. DAY SEVEN: Salem&Luther

**SALEM'S POV**

I have two reasons why I have to survive and get home.

The first is obviously myself. I certainly don't want to deal with injuries of any kind, and there's no way in hell I want to die. I'm not suicidal, thanks, like my brother. Well, I don't _know _if Holland would go as far as putting an end to his own life, but I do know that he's probably the unhappiest person in the whole District.

See, my brother is hearing impaired, which means that he often doesn't hear the things we say and so we have to talk in sign language. Mom and Dad forced me to learn it, and to use it, so it's become a bad habit of mine. Of course, the Capitol people loved it.

Since Holland is special, and he's the baby, and he's the sweet one, he's the one that my parents love the most, and everyone instantly adores him, ignoring me. That's the reason I can't stand to be around him, and the reason I hate his attention-seeking guts. He put on a show, he's pansexual, so that people will cry for him some more and love him, because he can't get love any other way.

Enough about Holland. He disgusts me.

Anyways, the second reason I have to get home is a little more complicated.

Hester. My girlfriend, who also likes my brother which is strange because I really hate him. Then again, Hester is nice to everyone, even my disgusting younger brother. It's one of the things about her that makes her perfect.

She and I have been through hell and back together, and we help each other through. It's the thing that makes our relationship perfect. She's the only thing besides my own stubborn determination that keeps on making me get up each morning.

My time in the Arena's been relatively fight-less, though, which is nice. I've been on my own and haven't seen any other tributes in days and days. That certainly makes it easier.

Hester's been my best friend since either of us can remember, and we started dating last winter. It's been the best couple of months of my life. She's beautiful, she makes lots of smart-ass jokes but I just ignore them or try to laugh. She's compassionate and kind, and sometimes she'll say something _really _funny. She makes me the closest to happy I've ever been. She likes me better than Holland, which says a lot because everybody likes Holland.

She and I have gone on adventures together like you wouldn't believe. One time she tried to get under the hole in the electric fence (on one of those rare occasions when it was off) but didn't make it. I wonder if, maybe, someday, someone will be able to make it. I hope so, it'd be amazing to get to see the woods.

Anyways, she's my reason to live. She's the reason I get up and make myself face the dangers that are waiting for me. And she'll be worth it, I'm sure, when I get home. Did I mention she's the one that took my virginity, and I took hers?

Yeah, that was interesting, to say the least, but we've gotten a lot better at it in our adventures.

The only people that know about that part, though, are us and the other two friends in our group, and Holland, who I've forced to swear into secrecy. After all the love Holland's stolen from me, I refuse to let him ruin this by telling our parents.

I have two other best friends in my group, neither of whom are as funny, interesting, or attractive as Hester.

First, Hazelle Coleman, who has round gray eyes and dark hair. She's nice to everyone like Hester; that's how she ended up in the group. She lives two houses down from me and is really lovely: but she will not let you push her around, and that's the reason Hester and I respect her. She, too, has an affection for my brother, and they like to talk to him though I have no idea why.

Second, Kyran Kasparek, who's made a name for himself at the Hob. Kyran's an alcoholic, but he's a nice alcoholic. He has anger-management issues sometimes, like myself, and that's why I need him around. Sometimes you just need to take a beer and vent about life, and Kyran is good at listening and venting. Sometimes, he steals things from the bakery to eat and he's very good at it, though he's gotten whipped at least four times. He never stops because he could use the extra money to get alcohol for himself. He's got a very keen artistic eye, but denies it. Hester and Hazelle are sometimes weary of him, but never vocalize it.

Hazelle got the news out of Hester almost as soon as it happened, and unfortunately, Kyran was in the room when Hester spilled all the beans.

Needless to say, he still hasn't let it go. He spends his time making wise-ass remarks about it and asking me how my sex life is and if I'm _getting it regularly now. _I always ignore this when he says it, until he threatens to tell Hester about our evenings together (she still doesn't know I drink) and then I have to tell him. I often make up stories to amuse myself, and by then Kyran's so drunk he doesn't get it anyways.

Those are the days. I can't wait to get back to them. I can't wait to sleep with Hester, to get drunk with Kyran, to tell Hazelle stories and to get far far far away from Holland.

There's really one person back at District 12 who I fear, and it's not my family for sure. Not even Kyran's parents, who are fierce and abusive, but still not _scary. _

No, the only person back home I'm afraid of is Hester's twin brother. Hector Stallosky is terrifying because if he knew what I've done with his sister, surely he'd beat me to a pulp. He barely trusts me, anyways, because he likes Holland. Like, I can't even hold her hand without getting a dirty look from him. Hopefully he won't fight me if I'm a Victor. I mean, who would fight a Victor!? Surely nobody smart.

I like getting lost in my thoughts. It's a somewhat happy place to get lost in, mostly because Hester's there. Besides, I have nothing better to do as the hours tick by and I'm by myself. If I had an ally, I could tell them these stories: tales of Hester and I being complete idiots, tales of giggling with Kyran about stupid shit, stories of arm-wrestling with Hazelle and almost losing but winning at the last moment…

I wonder if Holland has such happy thoughts to get lost in. I hate his pansexual ass most of the time, he's a nuisance and an affection-sucker, stealing the attention of all my friends except Kyran, all our family members… He makes me sick. He has friends, too, three of them who are just as sweet and gross as he is.

Elizabeth Klara is 16, a year older than him, and her grandmother is an Archer. Rebecca Archer is the last of her siblings to be alive in District 12, and she's losing her health. The family is famous because three of the six siblings died in the Games. Crawley Archer died a couple years ago, dreadfully alone. The middle one, Miranda Archer, ran away with a Capitolite. I dunno what happened to them.

Anyways, this Elizabeth girl is friends with Hester, somewhat, so I have to tolerate her. Sometimes she and Holland hang out with Hester and I.

Then there's Barney Bannister, someone who's just as disgustingly sweet as Holland and Hester and Hazelle. It makes me sick, how he has a smile all the time, and always seems to be happy. I guess I'm just not that type of person, because I very rarely feel happy.

Finally, there's Isabella Henderson, who is nice but more like me: unsmiling unless something is really _really_ nice, but she's a lot more compassionate than I am.

All of them are what I want to be but never can be because I'm just not that person. That's why I like to drink with Kyran so much; he knows what it's like. Though, he never wants to be that person, he just wants alcohol. I can barely blame him.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps and snap out of my memories. As much as I like to think about Hester and my friends, I realize that here is probably not the best place to do so. Not in a place where people want my blood and I want theirs.

Antoinette is dead, I'm the only tribute from 12 left, and I want to get home, get food into Hester's mouth, and Hazelle's, and Kyran's, and I want to go far far away from Holland and the rest of my dumb family. But I'll never be able to do that unless I stay alert.

From the Cornucopia I managed to sneak away with a knife, but nothing more. I've been living off of berries and water from the little pond nearby where somebody: I think the boy from District 10: died.

Anyways, I can't be thinking about anything right now, because I hear footsteps and snap back into it at the sound. When I look up, I see who it is for the first time. It's the boy from District 7, and he's got an axe in his hands when all I've got is a dumb knife.

I swallow hard. This is a fight that is not going to be easily won.

But I'll do it.

I'll do it for myself.

I'll do it for Hester.

Bring it on, Lumberjack.

* * *

**LUTHER'S POV**

"_Hey, Luther!" Casey runs over. I wish I could've run away, but it's too late now._

"_Hey," I mumble, trying to turn away. _

_Casey grabs my shoulder forcefully, "Hey, what are you doing?" _

"_N-Nothing."_

"_What? Are you afraid of a girl!?" She laughs, "Luther Pultzer, afraid of a girl!" _

"_I'm not afraid," I say quietly. I can't be afraid. Nobody in my life I've ever met has been hurt by a girl. Casey is harmless, I'm sure of it, but the bruises don't hurt any less with that thought. _

_She kisses my lips and says, "Are you alright? You don't seem yourself." _

"_I'm fine." _

_There's a pause and she gazes at me. "You're not going to ask about me?" _

"_I wasn't going to, but I suppose I should now?" _

_She cracks her knuckles and says, "If you're smart you will." _

_I swallow hard, "Fine. How are you?" _

_She smiles, "Good, now that you're here." _

"_Of course."_

_She smiles and kisses me. "So… You want to have your way with me, then?" _

"_Not really," I confess, "The reapings tomorrow are really getting to me, I think." _

_She slaps me across the face and I blink in shock as the pain subsides. This is how she pressured me into losing my virginity in the first place, slapping me until it hurt so bad I couldn't say no. She wouldn't let me leave without doing it, anyways, I was really out of options. Casey has major anger issues and I'm her favorite person to take it out on. She's made me bleed before: severely, but I live with it, not telling anyone where I really get my injuries from. _

_Then she slaps me again for good measure before kissing me. _

I wake up with a start.

What a nightmare. And even as a Victor, I know I can't get away from her. She has too strong of a grip on my life, on everything I am and everything I do. I can't just tell people I'm hurt constantly by a _girl_ of all people. Especially not my girlfriend.

I can't help it, not now. I'll never be able to break up with her, I'll be forced to marry her and she'll have my children and I'll grow to be grumpy and just as abusive as she is with me…

It's not the person I want to become, but it's the one I'm going to be.

I don't know why I still wake up every morning. I certainly don't want to die, but I would do nothing if I won the Games. Maybe that's why I let the girl from District 8 girl go, after killing her ally. I didn't thing I was able to show mercy, but I did.

I surprise myself every day.

Not very often, but every once in a while, I do something nice against all odds. It's astounding, really, and it proves that I do have good left in me. I like when that happens; when I manage to do something nice, my heart soars with makeshift happiness and I realize that I can be something, so much more than what I am. Then I remember that I lack the courage to separate from Casey, and as long as my life is in her hands, it will be nothing.

I stare at the sky, where the sun is just rising. I have nothing but an axe. I got lucky with that, but I'm dreadfully hungry. I found water, but it's hard to get to, and there's always the risk of finding another tribute there. Taking another life. Fighting to stay alive, against someone who has a story.

I get up and walk for most of the morning.

My stomach rumbles and I sigh to myself. I really wish I had a backpack, like Eight. I wish I had the whole Cornucopia at my disposal, like the Careers. I wonder where they are now, and I wonder if they've split yet.

But, I guess I'll find that out later. I keep walking, keeping an eye out for tributes along my way but not looking too incredibly hard.

I make it to the body of water and sit on the edge, cupping my hands and drinking from them. It's pretty much the opposite of ideal, but I don't care, I'm so thirsty.

Then I grab my axe and keep walking.

I walk for the rest of the morning, keeping an eye out for anything I could eat.

Then, I suddenly see the boy from 12, sitting by himself. His gray eyes are blank and the tiniest smile is on his face: I think he's zoned out. I raise my axe, looking around to see what he's got. Nothing, nothing that I can see. I realize that I'm going to have to kill this boy.

Yeah yeah, I know that Salem's an ass, an ass in every way that you can possibly be an ass, but that doesn't change the fact that I'll bet there are people in District 12: starving people that don't even know his story, if nobody else: that are depending on him to make it back home.

It doesn't matter, I have to do it, I have to kill him. This is a fight to the death.

I take a step closer, when suddenly his eyes snap back into focus and he jumps up, holding up a knife with alarmed eyes.

I swing my axe at him as hard as I can: it hits his arm and immediately get a gush of blood for reward and I hear a crack at the weight: and he responds by charging at me, burying his knife wherever it will bury, which happens to be in my right forearm. I shove him away from me and swing my axe again, aiming for his head, but he holds his arms up in front of his face and it goes straight through his left wrist.

Salem screams and slashes his knife all the way from the base of my throat to my hip before shoving me aside and starting to run. I can feel it bleeding and already feel weak but chase after him, before I realize he's made his escape successfully and I have to commend him. The surrounding area is covered in blood, and I briefly see Salem's hand on the ground from where I cut it off, and I decide I would like to get as far away from that as possible, just so that I don't throw up.

I walk away, feeling my legs start to shake and realizing that I'm losing blood quicker than I would've liked. I mop up the bleeding with the rest of my T-shirt. It's pointless, Salem ripped the front when he cut me, anyways. Soon, the cloth gets drenched and the bleeding's barely slowed or stopped.

I can feel myself getting weaker and weaker, so I finally stop walking and collapse, leaning heavily on a block. I'm not sure how I'm ever going to make myself stand up again, but I'm strong… I'll do it, somehow. Just not now. Right now, I feel the weakest I've ever felt in my life, except, I guess, for those times I end up in Casey's presence.

I close my eyes, knowing that passing out is inevitable, figuring that I might as well do it now instead of later.

Black covers the sides of my vision before it finally consumes the rest of my sight, and I'm sent into a feverish kind of slumber.

* * *

_**A/N: Horray, I finally got another update of this up! I know it's not much, a lot of flashbacks as opposed to action, but I hope you enjoyed it anyways! For once, this chapter came to me pretty easily, after spending so long in writer's block. So, please, feel free to sponsor whoever with whatever (it gives me more to write about which will mean a faster update!) but don't feel pressured! Also, feel free to say what you think of the chapter with a review, I love to see them, really! **_

_**Okay, I think that's all for me. **_

_**CHAPTER QUESTION: Hm… Do you guys recognize any of Salem/Holland's friends? ;) ((I guess you may or may not...)) Idk, I'm running dry on questions. **_

_**SCORES: **_

_**Kate: 154**_

_**Dreamer: 94**_

_**Jess: 157**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**Turtlewithwings: 24**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**Beauty. Is. Strange: 61**_

_**Blue (Guest): 5**_


	12. DAY EIGHT

_**A/N: This story is officially OFF of hiatus! Thank you so much for sticking with it! So, since it's been on hold so long, I'm just gonna give everyone a reminder of those that are left and how they're doing. **_

**AVOGADRO'S POV**

I pace around, wondering what happened to the Careers now that their leader is dead.

_Serves District 1 bastard right. He killed Mick._

I wonder who killed Pride Davison. Crap, I hate not knowing things! I can't wait to get out of this place and watch all the recaps so I finally know for sure what's going on.

"_You don't know!? Avogadro Bismarck doesn't know!?" The kids laughed loudly. They bombarded me with questions, most of which I know. Every time I don't know, I get laughed at. Every time I don't know, my parents tell me I'm supposed to and don't hide their disappointment. I can't keep humiliating myself. I have to stop being a disappointment. I have t o know._

Not knowing is driving me crazy.

Finally, I sit down, grabbing a pillow one of my sponsors sent me. "At least _someone _believes in me," I say quietly to nothing, burying my face in the pillow. It smells like the Captiol, but it smells... Homely. Not like the Capitol I was in, but like a cozy living room. It's surprisingly comforting.

"Lots of people believe in me…" I say quietly, thinking about all the gifts Mick and I got earlier and picking up a compass I got. "Or… They believed in us." The probably just believed in Mick, just like I did.

I outlived him somehow. The numbers are dwindling. I'm actually going to hae to fight soon, whether it be against a tribute or against some kind of mutts. Both have been programmed by the Capitol to kill me.

And, to top it off, I'm weaponless. Mick was my protector, he had all the weapons of our alliance, and when he died they were taken with him.

_Who am I kidding? Nobody believes in me. They all wanted Mick to win. Why wouldn't they? He was radiant, kind, gentle… Mick is someone I'll never stop looking up to. He deserved to win more than any of them, including myself. _

I sigh into the pillow, not sure what I want. Well, I know what I want, but it's very improbable. I want to wake up on the day after the 41st reapings and discover it was nothing but a dream. That Mick is just a figment of my imagination.

But, no.

He changed me way too much to be fake. The first person I ever cared about. I owe a lot to him.

And, getting to my logical point built by those arguments, it means that I have to win. No matter what kind of hell I'm going home to. No matter how many sponsors I don't get or don't believe in me.

I have to win.

Now we only have one major problem with that plan. I've got nothing.

My food is running out, and more importantly, I don't have a weapon so it's not like I could fight anyways.

So, until someone or something finds me, I have to keep on hiding.

Hiding, holding my breath, and hoping for the best.

~.~.

**LIANA'S POV**

"Bronx…" I mutter, pacing, "Bronx…"

I keep walking around in circles. "Bronx, come on…" I want something, anything, from him. I want a sponsor present or something, but apparently I'm not getting anything right now.

When I decide for good nothing's falling from the sky, I sigh and finally sit. Bronx Stringer is the Victor of the 40th Games, and he's confident that there will be two Victors from 8 in a row by the end of the year.

Talk about pressure.

I wonder where everyone else is and what they have. I know I should go looking for tributes, but part of me (or all of me) doesn't want to. I'm still stuck on Luther killing Nolan, and even more stuck on why the heck he let me go.

I wonder what will happen if we ever meet again. I'm sure he wouldn't hesitate to fight me this time.

As irrelevant as I've made everyone else here seem, the cold hard truth is that they're kids like me. They want to go home just as much as I do, probably for a lot of the same reasons. In fact, I don't' doubt that some of them have more reasons to get home than I do.

But, that doesn't make my reasons irrelevant. I have Nina, my younger best friend who just started sewing, I have Bronx, who's put all his faith in me, and I have a mystery to solve regarding my best friend who the Capitol supposedly killed but might be an Avox.

Bronx is someone I knew well, he was the biggest competition myself and my partner Ryann had in the drug industry. He was, like me, a great player of the innocence card.

Or, well, he was, until he got hooked on some of the stuff he was selling. The rumor started and spread like wildfire. The truth.

He blamed us for spreading it until he found the guy that actually squealed on him.

One night after that, he attempted suicide. Ryann and I caught him and kept him from it. He told me later that he just wanted to kill himself before the Peacekeepers were able to.

My best friend, first love, and partner in crime Ryann (she was a prostitute in the daytime) suffered that fate. Humiliation. Whipping. Death. I can understand why Bronx wanted to avoid a fate like that.

He did escape, somehow. Maybe because he had connections. Ryann wasn't that lucky. I squeeze the red bandana that was once hers and is now my token. I miss her, but now's not the time to think about that.

Now's the time to think about my own survival.

~.~.

**JOSIE'S POV**

I wake up and immediately start counting the tributes left on my fingers.

_Candle. Fabian. Avogadro. Reginald. Blanche. Luther. Liana. Me. Salem. _

I was honestly hoping there would be less. Oh well, we're in the single digits, at least. I stare down at the knife I got from Laurentina. Its original owner is now dead. I have to say it doesn't feel as bad as I thought it'd feel.

Then again, I'm still in survival-mode. I'm sure it hurts a lot more when you're in the real world, knowing you're alive, but at what cost!? Too expensive of a cost, I'm sure.

But, I don't see it. Here, in an Arena, life is the only thing that's important. Nothing else is important, until you become friends with someone and lose them. But even after that, your life still remains the most important thing. There are very few people that would die in place of their friends in an Arena.

I can see why, I can feel it. Thinking about my failure to save Penny hurts, but now that it's been a couple days, I've become numb to it. Shrugged it off. I focus more on my promise to her to win than I do on anything else we've ever said to each other.

Life. Clinging to life, though there are so many other people out to kill me. People whose stories I don't know, but will know if I actually hold on long enough to get out of here.

I don't want to know everyone's personal stories. I don't want to know anything about the people I'm killing besides the fact that… well… I'm supposed to kill them. I'm sure they don't want to know anything about me, either.

I wonder, if I die, what the Victor would say when they heard about my story. Would they feel bad for me? Would they be disgusted? I wonder, but I don't really want to find out because for that to happen, I'd have to die.

I didn't tell Penny a lot about it, but she knew some of it. It doesn't matter now, I guess. She has little brothers that are probably at home, still trying to figure out how they're going to live without her. Maybe they won't.

Some kind of sad pain reenters my heart, and I shoo it away as quickly as it comes. I definitely don't need this now. As I said, the Arena isn't a place of memorial or a place of grieving. It's a place of kill or be killed.

There are 9 left. The only ones that are left are the ones that would rather kill.

~.~.

**BLANCHE'S POV**

Reginald, Fabian and I spend the eighth day together and soon it's already time for bed. We didn't even find any tributes, and nobody died today, which means that someone has to die soon or else the Capitol will take it into their hands.

Nobody wants that. Nobody wants mutts after them.

That night, I stay awake and sit up. I feel bad for making the boys keep watch constantly, so I decide there should be no harm in me keeping watch for a couple of hours while both of them catch up on their snoozing.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Asks Reginald, looking at me with a little concern in his eyes. He's so sweet and caring.

"I'll be fine," I assure him. I kept watch for whole nights sometimes when Antoinette and I were together, this is no different.

"If you're positive," says Fabian, curling up in a sleeping bag and closing his eyes, keeping his spear close by him.

"Whenever you may need me, wake me," Reginald smiles and curls up in his own sleeping bag. I nod at him, smiling a little at how well he's able to deal with me. Both boys are asleep quickly and I know this is a good thing of me to do for them. An okay way of showing how appreciative I am of them taking care of me.

I sit alone and things are pretty okay. The voices are no louder than usual, though they're not any quieter, either. It's when I get lost in my thoughts that trouble arises.

My thoughts start at Reginald, everything about him that I think is really neat, but things quickly go sour when I start thinking about Antoinette. About how I was holding a knife and I freaked out on her. I stabbed her when I was in a fit!

Reginald and Fabian tell me I didn't… _Did I!?_ I think really hard, trying to remember what exactly happened. The scene seems to replay right before my eyes. I was scared, the voices were screaming, some kind of angry bats were flying around and charging at me, and when they were gone, Antoinette was dead in my lap and the Careers were there.

I don't know what happened… But I'm positive I killed her. She was so little, she depended on me, and I killed her! Why did she give me a weapon!? Why'd she put her trust in me!? I'm a hallucinating girl that has nothing valuable about her! Why are Fabian and Reginald putting up with me!? Why haven't they just killed me yet!?

Something screeches above my head. This time they're vultures. Part of me thinks I'm hallucinating, but they look, sound, feel so real. They charge down, talons opening, ready to claw at my face. I wave my arms, trying not to wake Fabian or Reginald by screaming.

I take Fabian's spear from beside him and start waving it around, trying to get rid of them.

Eventually, the birds go away. I'm left on my knees, in the middle of our camp, surrounded by darkness and nothing back. Tears drip out of my eyes. _Oh, what's the point!? Why am I causing so much trouble to Fabian and Reginald if I'm not even going to be able to win the Games anyways!?_

All I am is a burden, and it's not like I have any shot of winning and getting back home. Basically I'm asking them to deal with me, babysit me until fate catches up to me and I die anyways. I don't want to kill them like I killed Antoinette! I don't think I could stand it!

I can't risk it. I can't go on like this, being such a burden to both of them. I can only imagine what they've sacrificed to keep me safe and healthy, and it's all been for absolutely nothing. They had to have known that.

Hands shaking, I pick up the spear again and this time, instead of waving it around to get rid of vultures that were just dumb old figments, I turn it on myself.

_I'm sorry. _

~.~.

**FABIAN'S POV**

I wake up to a loud, high-pitched scream. Looking over, I see our ally, collapsed, a pool of dark blood forming around the shaking body.

"Blanche!" I run over, noticing with horror what happened. My spear is through her chest, she did this to herself. "Blanche…" Her chest stopped moving up and down. A cannon roars as Reginald shoots up. I take the spear out of Blanche's chest as he runs over and stares at the scene with wide eyes.

"F…Fabian…" his voice quavers, he stares at me with hard green eyes.

I suddenly realize what this must look like.

"Y-You have the wrong idea! She did it to herself while I was sleeping! Honest!"

"That sure isn't what it looks like," he growls, a tear or two rolling down his cheeks.

"I wouldn't lie to you, Reginald! Honest!" Tears dot my eyes. How do I fight for myself!?

He grabs me by the wrists, yanks me up, and shouts, "DID YOU KILL HER!?"

"NO!" I shout back desperately, looking into his eyes, trying to get him to believe me, "I didn't, I swear!"

His body shakes as he shoves me backwards and, fast as lightning, grabs his bow and trains it on me. "How could you do this?! She wasn't much, but she was my friend! I can't let her death go!"

"I didn't kill her, Reginald! I'm telling the truth!"

"How do I know!? I don't know you at all."

Hearing him say something like that hurts. "We talked, though! You promised to be the brother I never had-"

He sounds like he's struggling to keep his voice from shaking more than it already is. "Laurentina and Pride acted like they were a young couple in love until tensions rose. Who's to say this isn't the same thing?"

"It's different!" It was different for me. Just then, I realize that it's completely possible that he could've played me like a fiddle. There's a chance none of that was real, none of the so-called _genuine _looks were real. I could just be nothing to him but a pawn to play when he needs to escape death.

_How could I have been so stupid!?_ _This is a fight to the death, not a fairytale!_

I break down sobbing, collapsing on my knees at his feet. _He's done playing me! He's going to kill me. _

I look up to see his bow trained on my forehead, though he's shaking, shaking violently. I can tell they're waiting to send in to hovercraft until after this happens, so it can pick up me and Blanche at once. I can imagine them saying, _"Prepare a cannon," _and the whole nation holding its breath. I'm holding my breath, sobs tearing out of me.

His hands shake, and we stare at each other for a while before he puts down the bow and slings it back over his shoulder.

"I don't want to kill you, Fabian," he says quietly. I want to believe it… Maybe it _is_ true and this _is_ real…

"Huh?"

He repeats it, more harshly this time. "I don't want to kill you!" I blink up at him. _What does this mean!? _He lowers his voice again and it loses its edge. "I don't want to avenge Blanche if there's no avenging to be done." He sounds conflicted. "But I can't let her death go if you're guilty." I hold my breath. _What's he going to do to me!?_

"I didn't see it, but there are people out there that did."

"You don't mean-"

"Capitolites. Sponsors. They're our only communication with the outside world. And they saw exactly what happened." He goes to his backpack and grabs a small piece of rope. He ties up my hands tightly behind my back. I don't have the heart to fight him, and I want to play my cards right to survive.

"You're officially my prisoner. If sponsors send us stuff by sunset, you're off the hook. I let you go, and you run away, and we meet later maybe. If we get nothing, you die as soon as the sun's on the horizon. No exceptions. You try to run, and I promise I won't hesitate to shoot."

I nod, swallowing hard. "Just because this deal is being made doesn't mean the sponsors are going to be honest," he says. "We won't know for sure until I'm out of here and I watch it for myself. I just need justification before I take a life like yours." That last sentence is so quiet I can barely hear it.

"I'm taking watch," he says, his voice as hard as a rock, "Go to sleep."

I nod and curl up, the rope uncomfortably burning my wrists. He wasn't exactly gentle in tying me up. I close my eyes and try to get some sleep, but it's next to impossible. Thoughts fly through my mind. Grief for Blanche. Confusion on how much of this is real. Hurt at even the mere possibility that all I am to him is a pawn. And especially, fear for the future.

My life was in the Capitol's hands the second I stepped up on that stage, really.

But now… Now, I have absolutely no control over my own fate.

My life has been handed over to the Capitolites, the sponsors.

Whether or not they save me, be honest, save my life and my name… It's all up to them.

~.~.

_**A/N: So, as you can see by the chapter, THE TRIBUTES NEED SPONSORS! SO SPONSOR SPONSOR SPONSER! DO IT! THEY NEED YOU! FABIAN NEEDS YOU! SO GO AHEAD AND DO IT! YEAAAAAHHH! Or not, I guess, if you want to watch them drop like flies. And if you're cruel and want to abandon Fabian. List of stuff and costs is shown updated at the end of Chapter 10. Up to yoooouuu!~**_

_**So, here's the list of who's left: Candle (D1), Fabian (D2), Avogadro (D3), Reginald (D4), Luther (D7), Liana (D8), Josie (D9), Salem (D12). SPONSOR AWAY! **_

_**Chapter Question: Whose POV do you want to see more of? Whose backstories are you curious of? Anyone you want to see/hear from less? Let me know! **_

_**SCORES: **_

_**Kate: 186**_

_**Dreamer: 96**_

_**Jess: 179**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**ThisWorldWeHate: 29**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**Beauty. Is. Strange: 49**_

_**Blue (Guest): 5**_

_**magiccharity: 9**_

_**Ibbonray: 35**_


	13. DAY NINE: Fabian,Salem,&Avogadro

**FABIAN'S POV**

I wake up after not much sleep and look over at Reginald, who's staring at the sky with a scowl on. I swallow hard, trying to sit up with tied hands and looking up at the sky.

_Is anyone going to save me? What if someone tries but it's too late? _

My spirits are still heavy and sunk and I'm scared for my life. Not to mention that this whole thing with Reginald could be nothing to him but an act. That would hurt more than an arrow to the chest.

I really like Reginald, though I think I've been in denial. From the moment I laid eyes on him I noticed him (he's so damn tall, it's hard to not notice him), but when I heard him sing, it became something more than toleration.

It became something so much more than just a simple interest.

It became friendship.

It became love.

Or, at least, that's what it became for me. The thought that it didn't become anything for him: or worse, that there was nothing there to begin with, makes my stomach flop uncomfortably.

I stare at the sky as Reginald paces. We have breakfast, he splits it perfectly half and half for both of us, which gives me hope. He's so incredibly hard to read…

Did he love Blanche? Was his "inability to kill me" all an act until now? Is it a scam to get sponsors… Is he using me?

I can never be sure.

This alliance is over today. Either by my dying, or by us parting ways. I'm not sure which will hurt more. I want to protect him, I want him to protect me, still. I want to have the love there, I don't want it to fizzle away…

I stare at the sky, becoming surer and surer that I'm going to die tonight. Nothing is coming.

Reginald takes me by the rope tied around my hands to go fishing. He keeps a close eye on me as he gets some fish for our lunch and starts a fire. His eyes, cold and hard and unforgiving, stay trained critically on me.

We eat lunch in silence. I keep flashing him desperate looks, but when he catches my eye he scowls at me and looks away. I can't do anything to change his mind now, nothing will ever be the same for us again.

The sky begins to darken, the sun begins to sink. Reginald keeps looking at me, his scowl getting bigger and bigger with each second that nothing falls from the sky.

Tears push out of my eyes, and I admit to myself for the first time that I'm scared. I'm scared of what's going to happen. I don't want to die, but part of me would rather die than be separated from him. I watch the skyline, waiting for anything, anything to happen.

"Please…" I try not to let my tears show through my voice as I whisper, pleading someone to send something. "Please…"

My heart pounds heavily, with each second I feel a stronger and stronger urge to breathe, nervous energy spreads throughout me, I have to breathe to remember I'm still alive, that I could still be alive by the end of the night if only someone would just help me…

Time slows down. The sun starts to sink, and the tears refuse to stop. I cry, I cry into my knees, I cry like there's no tomorrow, because it's looking like there won't be. I feel his eyes on me, I look up and they're gentler than I've ever seen them before.

"I'm going to have to kill you," he whispers, his voice wavering. I look up, my eyes probably red and swollen for crying.

He takes a deep breath, rubbing his temples. "I'm going to kill you in five, four-"

Suddenly, we hear beeping. Beeping coming closer and closer. I look up, drying my eyes and cheeks. Reginald wipes his eyes when he thinks no one's looking.

We run over to the parachute and he opens it. Inside is a tiny little canteen. It's a tiny gift, especially because we have much larger canteens already, but right now the small present is probably the most beautiful thing I've seen in a long while, especially considering the fact that it saved my life.

"So you were right. I don't have to kill you."

I nod a little bit.

He looks in the bucket and pulls out a little piece of paper. I watch as he looks at the picture, confused. Then his eyes widen, and pool with tears. "Oh my God…" He hurriedly flips it over and reads what's written on the back before dropping the paper on the ground and falling backwards against the wall, tears pouring down his cheeks.

"Blanche," he gasps out, between hyperventilating breaths. "F-Fabian…" He looks around frantically, trying to calm himself down. I pick up the picture, the picture of Blanche's suicide and the two of us sleeping in the background.

"We slept right through it, Fabian," he says, "We thought she was alright… I thought she was okay, I thought she would wake us…" He buries his face in his knees as I flip the picture over.

_Spare the boy. I'm sorry you had to find out like this. _

_-Ricco_

I take a deep breath, relief flooding through my body, and I let the picture go and never want to look at it again. I mourn quietly for Blanche. She was a chained young prisoner. She's free now, though. I just know that she's free now.

Reginald gets a hold of himself pretty quickly. Soon, besides his slightly puffy eyes, I can't even tell he'd been crying.

He goes over to the sister parachute and opens it, pulling out a knife. We don't need any more proof, but I'm sure it will go to good use anyways.

"Turn around," he says quietly. I do as he says. Suddenly, he slashes me free of the rope. He puts my weapon and my knife in my hands, along with a backpack and a sleeping bag.

"Go."

"Is this really goodbye?"

"It has to be. The time I've spent with you has changed my whole outlook. I really mean that."

I believe him.

He takes both my hands. "But I still have people to get back to, and so do you. And only one of us can get back. I can't go on like this. We may meet again, whether it be in the afterlife or simply in my nightmares."

"I-I understand."

"So, thank you for everything. From the deepest depths of my heart." He puts one of my hands to his lips and kisses it. Then, he lets go, slings his bow over his shoulder, and nods to me one last time before running off. I stand and watch his figure run away into the sunset. I allow myself to take a deep breath and feel at peace.

This is for the better, even if it may not feel like it now.

~.~.

**SALEM'S POV**

"_Salem, dear, come hold him!" _

_The nurse holds my hand and takes me over to my mother's bedside. I crawl up on the bed with her. _

"_Careful now," says Nurse Klara quietly, "Wouldn't want to hurt her." _

"_He's alright," my mother says, smiling. Her cheeks are flushed and she looks frazzled, but radiantly happy. _

"_Want to see your baby brother, Salem?" asks Mom. I nod a little bit. _

_They place a warm, slightly heavy for my two-year-old self, wad of blankets in my lap. _

"_His name is Holland." _

"_Mommy, what's a Holland?" I ask. _

"_It's a place, a place that was once in existence very far away from here." _

"_Like Salem?" _

"_Yes, a little bit like Salem." _

_I look down at the little face, the cute, chubby little baby face of my new brother. A smile breaks across my lips. "It's like he can't even hear us!" _

"_Yeah, it is like that." _

_The little being shifts around in my arms and I look down. His eyes open just then. Huge and a sparkly, light gray. _

It's a moment that changed my life, it really did. Whether for better or for worse, well, I don't think I'll ever be able to figure that out.

In school, every year I asked my teacher how much they could tell me about the place called Holland. It was never in the Capitol curriculum, though, so my questions were dubbed irrelevant and shaken off. I know about my name, Salem, from our Basic North American History class. It was a place near District 12 that killed itself off ideally in a scare of magic and witches. But nobody ever told me about Holland.

As I grew, my dislike and jealousy of my little brother grew and flourished. He began to suck attention away from me and everyone who surrounded me knew me as "that cutie Holland's much more unpleasant older brother."

They figured out he was practically deaf, and with that everyone forgot my very existence except for Hester, Kyran, and Hazelle. Or my parents, when stuff sprung up that was a "big brother job," and then I'd get yelled at for not doing it.

_Good big brothers look out for their little brothers. Big brothers read to their little brothers, and sing to them. Big brothers help little brothers and tend to their injuries. Big brothers stay strong for their little brothers. Big brothers never show weakness, never cry in front of their little brothers. Big brothers never abuse, fight, or cuss out their little brothers. Big brothers share everything with their little brothers, taking one fourth and giving the other three. Big brothers work for their little brothers. _

So many rules I'm bad at following. So many roles I could never fill because I'm scared and emotionally weak.

Salem!_ Holland giggles as he signs, _Salem!

"_What do you want, Holland?" My fingers fly as I talk and sign, I don't even think about it, really signing was something that came naturally to me and always happens on its own. _

I'm supposed to get you!_ He signs, _for a surprise!_ He takes my hand and starts pulling me at a run towards the house. I stumble after him, trying not to smile. He sits and I sit by him, eventually scowling and shaking him off of me. _

"_We have a surprise for you," says Mom. It's been forever since I've gotten a surprise! I start to get excited! _

_My Dad pulls out a little machine and puts it in Holland's hand. I guess I'm not getting anything after all. _

"_We were finally able to find this for you, Holland," Dad has to sign slowly still, and Mom still doesn't remember simple signs. _

"_It's because-" Mom pauses. "How do you say I love you again?" she asks. Dad shrugs and they both look to me, smiling. I roll my eyes and do the sign, pointing to myself, crossing my arms on my chest, and pointing to them. The nod and say, "Yes, because I love you." She kisses the top of his head and they both leave without bothering to watch him try it out. _

_Holland quickly puts the buds in his ears and tugs on my sleeve. _Salem,_ he signs, _Say something!

_He switches the device on and I glance at him, his wide, expectant eyes, and try to think of what the first thing he ever hears should be. _

"_Holland." _

_His eyes widen, exploding with awe. _What's that!?

"_That's your name," I say signing as I speak. _

Say it again!

"_Holland. Your name is Holland Pitt Christenson." _

_He stares at me, a smile spreading across his face. _Again!

_I laugh a little bit, and he makes a thrilled little squeak. "Holland." He grins, _Again!_ "Holland!" _

_I actually smile a little bit, and he signs _Again!_ until I'm sure his arms are tired from tapping his fingers to his palm._

_I laugh out loud and shout, "Holland! You're Holland!" He squeals and beams. _

"_Holland!" I keep saying it, he keeps beaming and listening until I get sick of saying his name. _

"_There are so many other things to hear!" I say, signing rapidly, "What do you want to hear!?" _

_He tugs on my shirt and I look over. He smiles, pointing to himself, crossing his arms across his chest, and pointing to me. I stop short. I haven't even signed this to anyone in years except for an example for my parents. I hesitate to give out love, I'm too afraid of my heart being broken by the Games or by rejection, or because I'm no good at being a role-model. _

_Finally, I say it and sign, "I love you, Holland." _

_Tears spring to his eyes, he laughs happily and when he hears his own voice, he laughs louder. I smile, actually feeling like it's a gift for both of us. _

Do I have a good reason to hate Holland? No, not really.

I guess I'm just jealous of him. Everyone loves Holland, and they have good reason to. He's everything I ever wanted to be. Everything I'm not. He's tall, and he's got the cutest face, and he's kind and funny and he's got a great smile. His eyes are shiny and sparkly, he's good with people, he's sweet, he's got nice words to say, and he's all-around a people person. Pleasant. Someone you'd want to console you if you were having nightmares or cutting. I'm not that person, and I doubt I ever will be.

I sigh quietly, keeping my wound tightly wrapped up in a cloth so I don't have to look at it.

_Doesn't matter. I'll never sign again. _

I try not to look discouraged (it's a bad habit, right? Just a bad habit) as I grab my stuff and get up to walk.

Memories of Hester teaching me how to braid, memories of braiding Holland's hair and dressing him up in clothes I thought were stylish, happy memories with fun and laughter spent with Hester and even with my brother come to my head as I walk.

I smile a little bit and sit down on the ground, checking to be sure my knife's still in my pocket. Yeah, it is.

_Maybe I could get my brother back if I made it home. _

My soul is crushed again by the weight of guilt for every rude word I said to my brother, and I sigh quietly, the tiny window of happiness closing quickly.

_I can never get him back. It's too late for that now._

~.~.

**AVOGADRO'S POV**

I wake up that morning as the sun is rising and yawn tiredly. What a day it's been…

Suddenly I hear something… What? Beeping…

I look up and see the silver parachutes floating down from the sky. They appear to be coming close to me…

My first thought is, _Who the heck is near me!? _

Unless… Maybe, just maybe, at least one of them could be fore me… _Impossible. Who would spend money on the 14-year-old? _Suddenly the beeping becomes much louder and the parachute lands at my feet, the other landing close to it.

_Someone… Or a couple of someones… They believe in me!? _

I open the larger one first and my eyes go wide. It's…. It's a sword, but it's a really really nice one! The handle is shiny black, elegantly designed, it's got some kind of gem on it and beautiful golden embroidery-looking designs.

This is nicer than anything I've been allowed to touch in my time. When I pick it up, something about it feels natural. Or, well, as natural as a weapon can feel in the hands of a young boy who isn't good at murdering others. It couldn't have been cheap, and the thought that someone spent so much for me makes me feel warm and happy.

Then I open the smaller canister. I have to look twice to make sure I'm not hallucinating or anything. II set the sword down, standing over it protectively as I take the soft bear out of the container.

The first thought that comes to mind is how desperate I am and how lonely I've felt since Mick died. The second thought is that teddy bears are for children and this is stupid.

I had one, but one day when I was five I came home from school he was gone, because I had outgrown him.

I wonder why someone would send me this. I put him down, picking up the sword again. "I'm not a child," I mutter quietly, turning around and about to leave it.

I can't walk away from it, though. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Besides, if I leave a sponsor gift behind, people might feel discouraged to send me other gifts.

Of course. Yes, that's why.

I decide to take it, putting it in my backpack but leaving his head out (not so he can see, that's silly, because it wouldn't fit!), grab the expensive sword, and hightail it away from there, keeping on moving forward.

_A weapon to take lives and a children's toy… Surely the oddest combination of presents I've ever received. _

I walk for a while, the teddy bear in my backpack, the sword light in my hand. I look around until I see the boy from District 12, sitting by himself.

The fingers of his right hand move fluently, never stopping, just like they did at his interview.

"_Now I think we're all interested, Salem," Yin says, "What are you up to?" Yin looks down at Salem's rough, rugged, forever coal-dusted hands. _

"_Shut up, so I sign. Whatever, it's not like I'm some kind of fairy." _

"_It's an interesting talent!" _

"_I was forced by my parents to learn it for my brother." _

"_Oh, yes, and what's his name?" _

"_I'm not saying. He's too damn annoying for that. Signing is nothing but a bad habit I need to get rid of." _

"_So, if you win the Games, you can get the best hearing technology the Capitol has for him! Problem solved then, eh?" _

"_Oh, the problem'll be solved, alright. I'm going to leave them all behind. Take my girlfriend and move out. I can't stand my family at all." _

"_W…Well you did learn how to sign, so you must care a bit." _

"_No, I said I was forced. I don't care about ANY OF THEM!" _

_The crowd murmurs quietly at his outburst. _

No wonder this guy appears to have gotten no sponsors.

Then again, I blatantly insulted Yin in my interview, and I got so much stuff…

I put my stuff down and logically study the situation. Salem's skinnier and paler than he was when I saw him last. He's got open wounds, his left arm is wrapped up in cloth that's stained with blood, which makes me wonder if he's even got a hand there…

And, I figure that people spent money on me, I guess it's my job to appease them by killing someone already.

I hold my sword to the 18-year-old's throat, taking a small breath. Suddenly, his gray eyes (much more brilliant-looking up close) fly open and go wide.

"Three!?" he shouts, jumping up and getting out his knife and holding it up threateningly.

I scramble backwards at the outburst. Even injuried, he has a bite to him. Then there's the ever-looming question of _can I even take a life!? _It's time for me to find out.

If I stay smart and don't hesitate to kill, I could win this fight.

"You're fourteen! Just a kid!" growls Salem, slashing his knife at me. I keep dodging quickly, another advantage of being tiny. "You think you can fight an 18-year-old!?"

I finally take a breath and start on offense with my sword. He's weakened and has a shabby little weapon, whereas I may be younger but I'm sponsored. This sword isn't only beautiful to the eye, but it's also quite effective.

Salem swings his knife at me and I just keep jumping backwards and sideways out of the way, jabbing the sword forward and stabbing his shoulder with all my might as I feel a sharp pain tear at my stomach. I yank the sword out of Salem's shoulder and aim for his wounds, trying to reopen as many as possible.

The sword hits scratches on his arms, legs, stomach, trying to get perfect aim. He runs the knife down my arm as I finally stab him right in the chest. I'm pretty sure I missed the heart, but not by much. As I pull the sword out, he collapses to his knees, his hand grabbing his chest.

He looks up at me, his face turning from hard anger to a desperate, upset expression as his shirt turns bright red. His face loses all its color, he lies on his back, his hand covered in blood already from his chest.

"Holland," he chokes out, quietly, tears pouring out of his desperate gray eyes. "His name is Holland Pitt Christenson."

I blink as Salem takes shaky breaths, making choked sobbing noises as he stares up at the sky, tears falling out of his eyes. He holds his bloody hand in a fist on his chest and moves it in a circle around his chest in one last sign that I don't know. I don't want to know.

I'm bleeding and hurt, but I can't take any more of this watching Salem suffer. I grab my backpack and supplies and run away from there. I don't get far before his cannon booms. I really try not to cry, but after what I've seen, I can't help it.

I take the teddy bear out of my backpack, and I allow myself to hug him tightly and get comfort from him after this traumatic situation. I have blood on my sword now, I'm officially a killer. A killer at 14. My life will never be the same again.

I sob into the bear's fuzzy stomach, allowing myself to grieve for not only the life I've just taken, but for Mick, and for Nolan, and for Blanche, for Lincoln, and Antoinette, and Fahrenheit and Ian and even for Pride. Everyone who's died, anyone who's ever had to fight for their own survival. I sob until I've simply run out of tears, and allow myself to inhale the cozy, homely smell of the bear. He smells like maple syrup.

It only took one traumatic event for me to go from indifferent to the bear to being unsure how I could've survived without him. Just like Mick.

The Capitol anthem plays, and Salem's face flashes in the sky. I look into the picture's eyes, and my head pounds with yet another question I don't know and probably never will.

_Was there more to Salem Christenson than anyone thought? _

~.~.

_**A/N: Phew, that was a doozy! But way fun to write! Of course I had to redeem Salem just to kill him off in the end! The tributes thank you for your presents, keep them coming while they're cheap-ish because next chapter prices will be increasing slightly probably! I FORGOT CANDLE OMG SORRY CANDLE I'LL DO YOUR POV NEXT CHAPTER I PROMISE! **_

_**Chapter question: Do you like my brief interview flashbacks? Would you like more flashbacks of reapings/chariots/interview/chariots for anyone or everyone? Tell me what you think! **_

_**Anyways, here are points so far: **_

_**SCORES: **_

_**Kate: 186**_

_**Dreamer: 19**_

_**Jess: 104**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**ThisWorldWeHate: 29**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**Beauty. Is. Strange: 49**_

_**Blue (Guest): 5**_

_**magiccharity: 9**_

_**Ibbonray: 35**_

_**Thank you as always for reading! **_


	14. DAY TEN: Liana and Candle

**LIANA'S POV**

Potatoes.

I ate a lot of potatoes back in District Eight, because potatoes are relatively cheap compared to other vegetables, and with my extra money, I was able to treat myself to things like potatoes and carrots and radishes every once in a while.

Potatoes are bland and boring without anything on them, but when you're from a place like Eight, potatoes are practically a delicacy.

Ryan only ever ate potatoes I prepared because apparently I have an eye for boiling some simple potatoes in a bucket of water. She would often come over and we would have Potato Parties where we could savor the feeling of being full.

Those were the only nights she never had a client. And soon she had to schedule them in the nights, and we'd have our parties in the day. Soon, I was left to eat potatoes by myself.

Any potatoes I could've made are nothing compared to those in the Capitol.

The Capitol has all these kinds of fancy butters with weird spices in them, but Nolan and I agreed that simple butter and salt was simply perfect when we ate them together.

We had roast beef and potatoes the night before the Games, so I could eat as much as I wanted without Bronx teasing me about getting fat and not fitting into my dress.

As _if _one serving of roast beef and ten servings of mashed potatoes would've made either of us fat; Nolan was starving and I'm pretty close to it.

Amazing.

Something as simple as potatoes brings back memories. Memories of me and Ryann. Of me and Nolan. They were happy memories at the time, full of laughter and fun. But now, now I suppose they just feel empty. Empty because they contain a ghost in them alongside me.

How can Bronx even live like this!? How can he stand it? He must see things every day that remind him of the people in his Arena.

Thinking about Bronx, I realize how unready I am to be a Victor. How unready everyone in this place is. And yet, there are seven of us left.

Six more people die, and I'm going to have to get used to living a Victor's life pretty quickly. I don't think I can handle that. But, I don't have a choice. I can't break down sobbing like I did when I heard the gunshot that took Ryann with it. I can't collapse, Nolan isn't there for me anymore.

I can try to hold onto Nina, but Nina is so young and innocent and naïve, she'll never understand. Nobody will understand. Bronx is high most of the time, and I definitely don't want to be like that in the future!

I can't show my weakness. I couldn't from the time our escort called out, "Liana Finely!" at the reapings. Never again. I have to be strong or else my friends and family will suffer. I have to be strong or else I'll be punished. I have to be strong for my life, for my safety, for my people.

It takes a hell of a lot to break me, and the Games have officially broken me. Congratulations.

Seeing Nolan suffering from withdrawal. Seeing so many faces, faces that I've seen smile and laugh genuinely, up in the sky, smiling so fake…

When Pride talked about his girlfriend Fortune, he smiled so softly. When Blanche talked about her little siblings, she beamed so brightly. When Mick talked about his dogs, he beamed like they were his world. When Penny talked about all her little brothers, she laughed so happily. When Nolan remembered something about Ryann, his eyes lit up. When Salem talked about his best friend, he looked so at peace. That's not even the beginning of it.

They're people, too. People like me. People with stories and families and people they love, just like I do.

Six more people to die. Six young people with hopes and dreams, people who each have different talents. Six people and I'm going to be a Victor. Six more people until someone's alive and the other twenty-three are dead. Whether I'm the one everyone associates with 41 or one of the faces lost in history, well, we'll find that out.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps. I look up and see the girl from District 9. She looks skinnier, her hair is everywhere, and she stares at me with rabid brown eyes. She collapses, leaning against a block for support, panting and sweating.

My eyes widen and I don't know whether to try and hit her with my scythe, run away, or ask her what's wrong.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps tearing past and see some ugly, hairy monsters with ginormous, pointy front teeth that are meowing and tearing through the toy box.

I gasp and stumble backwards, turning around and running for my life. I don't stop to look back, though I hear Josie's footsteps running behind me.

_Why me!? _I despair, _Why couldn't it have been Bismarck!? _

I sling my backpack tighter around my shoulders and grab my scythe tightly as I run. I don't dare let go of it now, this weapon is the only chance I have to survive. I run and run, soon my body is screaming and sweating but I can't stop. I just can't stop.

I hear the other set of footsteps stop and a weak, faint, oh-so-quiet, "I give up." Behind me.

I turn around for just a second to see Josie collapsed, her knees tucked to her chest. One of the mutts, the monsters, pounces on her and with high, screechy meows, the rest of the pack follows the example.

I don't even hear a scream. And I certainly don't stop running, even when I hear a cannon. I don't stop until I actually start seeing black and finally allow myself to collapse, hyperventilating, fighting off tears from the exhaustion.

I wonder how long Josie had been running for. I wonder how much it had taken out of her.

Once the tears start, though they are only from exhaustion and feeling miserable, not from real sadness, but even when I've hyperventilated enough to catch my breath I can't stop crying. I can't stop crying for those poor souls that are lost forever to the sands of time. I can't stop crying for Ryann, for Nolan, for all of the unnamed, and for those that are going to soon be lost.

I might even be included in that list.

Once I get a little bit of a hold of myself, I venture to the jungle and the pond and splash my face, getting something to drink and losing control of my tears once again. I let go of the scythe for just a second and massage my aching hand.

Then I hear the Captiol anthem and look up to the sky.

Josie didn't smile much, but she did smile when she told Yin a little bit about what she loves. She told him about her belief in meditation. She was really smiling then.

Josie Tarver's face shines in the sky. She isn't smiling.

I lose control of the tears again, letting out all the weaknesses I've ever harbored. There's no room for them from now on, anyways.

I see a glint in the moonlight from a bush and look over.

"You watched her die, didn't you?" I don't need to see him to know it's the little boy from Three. I don't have the heart to experience another death today, in all honesty. I sling the backpack back over my shoulder and choke out a weak, "Yes."

I start to walk away but I hear his little voice say, "Sorry."

I ignore it and pick up my walking pace on the way away from there. I set up my stuff and curl up in a little ball, wishing I had a comfy lap to rest on.

After the day I've had, though, it doesn't take much time for me to doze off into a murky, dark sleep.

~.~.

**CANDLE'S POV**

Late that morning I hear a loud cannon booming and realize that now, we're down to six.

That means that now's the part of the Games where they start going around and interviewing family and friends of the tributes and televise it.

I wonder who they'll ask about me. Probably my parents, my siblings, and my best friend.

Maybe Cordovan (I hope they don't), maybe a trainer or two.

I guess it depends on how much time my family takes up talking. I sit on a block by myself for a while, in thought.

I wasn't really tied in with Pride's story at all, though I know most of it because I was there to watch it all unfold.

However, I tended to stay away from drama until the very end of it all. Even so I didn't get that much.

I live a calm, quiet life: the only people that I care to notice me are the trainers. I grew up in a family that deeply respects the Games and the honor of volunteering. My parents never pushed it on my siblings and I, but I wanted to volunteer from the time I was just a little girl.

I'm all-around antisocial, and I usually know exactly who I want to hang out with and wish other people would kindly leave me alone. I'm definitely an introvert, and I don't like to be out past eight o'clock unless it's something really special.

I have two siblings, Brilliant and Bright, two twins that are practically identical except for the fact that Bright's a boy and Brill's a girl. Same golden hair, same green eyes, everything.

Other than those two, I'm best friends with a wildly popular girl named Britannica. In elementary school we were both social caterpillars, but she soon proved to become a social butterfly, while I never really got that kind of skill. She still hasn't forgotten about me, though, for some reason, though I'm grateful.

She walks with me whenever we can between classes, leaving whichever boy is carrying her books behind her.

Soon, she started calling me Flicker, and soon it got shortened to just Flick. My siblings picked up on the nickname and so did my parents, and now it's more common to hear me called Flick than by my real name.

Britannica is definitely a flirt, and she often tells stories of boys "staring at her" and sometimes boys that are "definitely into you, Flick!" but I usually don't let myself be fooled.

While I went down the Games path, Brit intends to pick up her family business in jewelry-making. Her family's rich and very high-class, enough that Britannica has a blue streak in her dirty blonde hair and sometimes wears bright blue contacts.

As for my siblings, they're both starting the Games route, too. They have the same respect for the Games as I do. But, if I win the Games, they can really do whatever they want.

Bright is very, well, bright. He wants to be a doctor, or a teacher. Sometimes the boy from 3 says things that make me think of him. Brilliant is smart, too, but she wants to be a fashion designer because she's very creative. She has sketchbooks full of ideas for Games outfits. If I won the Games, she could get her drawings out there. Both of them could probably get jobs in the Capitol.

That'd be nice.

Anyways, after almost sleeping with a pushy guy, I realized I have no real sex drive, and started identifying as asexual.

I told Brit first, and it changed nothing in our friendship, which I'm so grateful for. The twins didn't really get it, they're only ten anyways. My parents didn't really care at all, either. I doubt they really understand.

The first time I met Pride was once in school when Britannica sweet-talked him into carrying her books to class. Pride sneered that girl backpacks aren't even that heavy, so I made him carry mine, which had all the textbooks in it. Not that I couldn't handle it, but I like to see him suffer.

Pride and Cord act like they're all cool, but both of them are kind of huge dorks. They're friends with the quiet but smart and promiscuous Fortune Polius, who was dating some sleazy guy at the time.

After meeting Pride and Cord, I noticed them more and more, especially as they climbed up the training ranks. Cord was always one step above, no matter how hard poor little Davison tried and tried to outscore him.

Soon I climbed up, too, not taking time to be distracted by people during my training. A couple times, some random person would try to talk to me, but I would often ignore them.

I don't like to be surrounded by people all the time.

I watched relationships begin and end, Fortune rose up to second highest-ranked next to me, and soon she and Pride broke poor Cordovan's heart by kicking him out of their polyamorous relationship, causing him to have to find friends elsewhere.

The first time Cordovan every properly talked to me happened the same day Britannica told me she's bisexual. I kept it secret, and I'll keep it quiet to the grave. Or, at least, until she's ready.

Anyways, Cord. He kept trying to be nice to me, but I never trusted him. After all, this is the person I was- or, I thought I was- going to volunteer beside. I refused to be friends with him, to even look at him. As I said, my family respects the Games, and I'm not going to get all friendly with the person I'm going to volunteer with.

Eventually they announced the volunteers: Prior and me, and the Academy had a banquet to celebrate with everyone ages 5 and up in attendance.

For volunteers, the annual Training Center lock-in sleepover is a tradition before reaping day, and I intended to use it, as did Prior. I invited no one, he invited Davison and Polius but they spent the night doing it in the Games library.

Pride volunteering was a shock to everyone, and even more surprising was the fact that Prior never fought him.

I was visited by the girl I volunteered for, as is tradition in District 1. The girl, named Fleur, is the florist's daughter, and came bearing gifts as is custom. She gave me a flower crown to wear on my way to the Capitol and a pretty vase with an assortment of flowers to put on my nightstand when I arrive.

Prior was the first visitor I had that day. I immediately felt some kind of rage but shook it off for the time being.

"Hey."

Yeah, that didn't last long. "What the hell is wrong with you!?" Cord's family is and was far from high-class, why would he have been so dumb and thrown away his only shot at getting rich!?

"It's a long story."

"He broke your heart."

"I still love him!"

I stared at him. "Why?"

"I dunno, but I do."

"Why'd you come visit _me, _then? You want me dead so Davison can come home."

"N-no… I mean, I thought you should know that I gave it up."

"You're crazy. There's no going back now. You've passed up the chance for glory!"

"I know. But that's okay." I wanted to claw his eyes out. How can he be saying things like that!?

"I dunno how you can think that," I mumbled, trying to subdue the anger.

"I came to wish you good luck, Flick. I really wouldn't mind if you came home."

"Right. Well, I still think you're an idiot. Only a complete _imbecile_ would throw away this chance! It's the opportunity of a lifetime and you've rendered it completely irrelevant! I'd just like to know… Why!? What are your parents going to say when you go back to them!? Your older brother, he wanted this, he wanted it badly, but he was never so lucky as you! He's a broke tattoo artist now! You get your only shot at luxury and you give it away like it's some kind of present!"

My family has a long-instilled reverence for the Games. The opportunity to volunteer is something my family and I respect, it is a privilege, something to be proud of. If he didn't care, why did he even train!? It's an honor for me to be here, that my District is proud enough of me to show me off to the whole country.

How do you take something like that lightly?

"I don't know what I was thinking. Wanting to save Pride from himself, and wanting him to take me back, or so I thought, and wanting to be a Head Trainer-"

"Oh, do you? It seems like you don't even know what you want anymore."

"So what if I don't know!? My parents already picked it out for me, anyways, as if I had a choice!"

In that second, I took a deep breath. I knew I shouldn't have taken it too personally, but it's practically in my genes to care so deeply about the Games.

"I'm sorry, Cord. I feel bad for you, I honestly do. But, while you sit and watch, I have glory to win. I sincerely hope you find happiness some other way. But, for me, there is no other way."

After a long and miserable silence, I nodded dismissively, and he nodded a bit back before getting up and exiting.

I had to take a deep breath before my visits continued.

My parents visited me after that, beaming proudly and wishing me good tidings, and Britannica came after them.

I smiled at her and she grinned, hugging me tightly. "Congratulations, Flicker!"

"Thanks."

We sat together and she cleared her throat after a bit of an awkward silence (it always did get awkward after a while because of the popularity gap) she spoke.

"As soon as I got the news you were chosen, I started making this." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a ring with high-quality silver and an assortment of shining quartz and some really colorful gem, with a shining red stone on top.

"It's fire opal," she said, "And diamonds."

I gasped a little. "Diamonds!?"

She nodded, smiling. "Consider it as a volunteering present, Flick." She winked, I burst out laughing happily and also through surprise.

"It's perfect, thank you so much!" I hugged her again, both of us laughing happily.

She talked a little longer and then she left.

The twins visited me last, their eyes shimmering.

"Sis!" Bright said, jumping on a couch.

"Hi Bright," I smiled, "Hi Brill."

"Hi Flick," she said, sitting next to me.

"How'd you two like seeing me up on the big screen?"

"I loved it!" Brill said, "You looked so beautiful up there, Flick!"

"Thanks."

"I'm a lil' worried, sis," Bright said quietly. "I liked seein' you up there, but I want you to be safe. I want you here. I'm a little scared."

I smiled a big, "Oh, Bright, you have nothing to be worried about. It's possible I may not make it, but I have a good chance." _An even better chance now that Cord isn't beside me,_ I thought.

"And if you don't?" Brill yelped, "Don't say things like that!"

I just patted Bright's head, "Even if I don't, you'll be fine. Brit would take care of you. Maybe one of you would volunteer, succeed where I failed."

"But you're coming home!" Brill said, "You're coming home, right!?"

"Of course I am. You won't be lonely for long, I promise."

Brill held out her hand. "Pinky promise?"

I smiled and linked our pinkies. "Pinky promise.

* * *

I mess with the ring as I sit alone, eating a small lunch I was able to find.

To say I'm surprised I got this far would be a bit of a lie, but I guess I'm just surprised that it's already this far into the Games.

There are six left, and I'm one of them. I can't back down now.

~.~.

_**A/N: Alright, I have stuff planned but we're down to the 6 characters that I feel connected to. I could see any of these six as a Victor. So, I need your help! I posted a poll on my profile and I'd love you to head over to my profile and vote for your favorites! PLEASE I BEG OF YOU! And if there's a tribute you like, go ahead and take the time to see what you can send them! (AHEM especially if you have close to 200 points lol Kate XD) **_

_**Chapter Question: After this, my next project is going to be the 36**__**th**__** Games. I might make it half-SYOT. If I did, would you submit a tribute? **_

_**SCORES: **_

_**Kate: 186**_

_**Dreamer: 31**_

_**Jess: 109**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**ThisWorldWeHate: 29**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**Beauty. Is. Strange: 61**_

_**Blue (Guest): 5**_

_**magiccharity: 37**_

_**Ibbonray: 35**_

_**TommyAnderson (Guest): 5**_

_**When The Walkers Come: 6**_

_**Thank you for your love and reviews! And remember: if you want to, sponsor a friend, and please please please vote on my poll for who you want to win! **_

_**Ciao for now! **_


	15. DAY ELEVEN: Luther&Reginald

**DAY ELEVEN**

**LUTHER'S POV**

_I'm in a dark room. I'm wearing a practically-suffocating nice tuxedo like I had to wear for my interviews. When I blink, I realize I'm in some kind of dark prison, being guided out of my cell by both arms. A heavy metal band is practically suffocating my ankle and when I move, I find that a weight is attached to it. _

_My hands are tied tight behind my back with rope and I'm taken to some place. The only thing I can think about is 'where am I going!?' I'm not surprised at being a prisoner. It's as if I've been a prisoner for a long while. _

_Some of the scars I have from my girlfriend are back as the injuries they once were, and I feel much weaker than I have in a long while. _

_Suddenly I'm blinded by a bright white light that hurts my eyes. When I blink and adjust to the sudden change in surroundings, I realize where we are. It's a huge Capitol steeple, like the one we passed when coming in on the train. Lively organ music plays and people chat. _

_I smile. Someone's getting married today. I'm escorted over to the stage and left there. Suddenly, I realize that shit, _I'm_ getting married! I blink in confusion, though a dark sense of foreboding fills my whole being when I realize who I must be getting married to. _

_I look out into the audience and see people from my school sitting there. My family, her family, and I don't want to do this at all. I glance behind me and see my best friend standing by me as my best man… But that's not right, either. _

"_Phoebe! What are you doing in that suit?" I ask. _

"_Sh," she says, "There is none of that. I'm Connor, and that's all that there can ever be." _

"_Pheebs, this is ridiculous, you can't let them define you like that!" _

"_Luther," she says, "Please. Forget it. Just go back to the male pronouns. Forget it." _

_My stomach flops and I have to look away. Lucky for me, I have a new figure to bring my attention to. _

_Casey stands in the doorway in a huge, hideous white dress, beaming like it's the best day of her life. She walks down the aisle slowly and bats her eyes at some of the guys sitting and watching. A lump forms in my throat. I can't do this. _

_I try to bolt for it in that second, try to run away as fast as I can, but with each step I try to take the weight on my ankle gets heavier and heavier until I'm reduced to an exhausted mess and she joins me up on the stage. _

"_Ready to marry me, Luther?" she asks. _

"_I…I do… I don't!" I try to fight the force that's making me say I do. I don't want to get married. _

"_You don't? What, afraid of a girl, Pultzer?" The rest of the audience starts laughing and I hear shouting, "Afraid of a girl!? A Victor!? Luther Pultzer!? Afraid!?" _

_The statements crescendo until I can't take it anymore! I cover my ears and start screaming desperately, "FINE! I DO! I DO!" _

_President Livianus stands between us, smiling. His voice booms like it did before the chariot rides. "Luther, Casey, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may now slap the groom!" _

'_Wait, WHAT?!' I think, but before I have time to think about what that means a hard slap hits me across the face. _

I jolt awake and scream. I wipe sweat from my forehead and take deep breaths to try and calm myself down. I can't be too hysterical… There's always a chance I may get hunted down.

The sky is just lightening, the sun is about to rise so it's really no use trying to go back to sleep (as if I would want to). I sit up and stretch, wiping the tears from my eyes and taking deep breaths, just trying to compose myself.

I continue to wipe my eyes and my face until I am able to breathe again and think straight.

I stare at the sky quietly, watching the sun rise. It is pretty, I'll admit that.

I let the reds, pinks, and oranges of the morning calm me down, pretending it's like the sunrises from District 7, my home. Sunrises watched while walking to work with Phoebe in the gentle breeze. Chopping down trees and trees and more trees.

Yeah, that was the life. It wasn't beautiful, but it had small beauties in it.

I already know it's never going to be the same again, whether it's good or bad.

Some Victors have had wildly successful lives after the Games. The first Victor had two sons, one of which went on to become a Victor himself. The Victor of the 17th Games, Salvador Castillion, opened an animal shelter in District 4. The Victors of the 20th and 21st Games got married and had kids. A lot of others have happy families, as well, and talented businesses.

Some, though, don't have nearly as good luck. The second Victor committed suicide two years after winning. The Victor of the 22nd Games was killed less than a year after his victory for some kind of legal reason. Countless Victors, including my mentor, who won the 28th Games, have dissolved into alcohol and drug abuse. The Victor of last year's Games is one of the many people who've given their fate away to drugs.

A Victor's life is a hard one, but I think I'm ready to rise up to the challenge, if it means a better life for those that actually deserve it.

I get up and start walking, on a hunt for something to eat. The cut Salem left is definitely unhealthy, but I've found ways to take care of it. It's not great, but I can survive. Though my shirt and jacket are bloody messes…

I walk towards the jungle to get some fish and water, like I'm sure the other tributes are on their way to do the same. I kneel down by the clear water and collect it in my hands, wishing I had something better for it.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I see movement.

I look over and see the boy from 2 trying to sneak over to the pond. I hate to do this, but I decide to survive I have to fight. I certainly don't want to battle any mutts or natural disasters.

He looks over and fumbles for his spear but I strike first before he can grab it, as hard as I can make my weak body lower it on him (with gravity's help, of course) and hit him right in the shoulder. He screams and pulls a knife out of his pocket instead, putting up a fight.

He tries to reopen the cut across my chest, but I can't let that happen. I lower my axe again on his other shoulder and finally try to go for the kill, but he strikes my arm with his knife and the heavy axe hits the ground. I can't heave it up over my shoulder, so instead I go for low shots, once on his shin, once on his knee, and once right on his waist. He lunges at me, going for a stab, but I kick him backwards. He collapses hard on the ground with a scream and I take shaking breaths through clenched teeth.

Fabian's chocolate brown eyes meet mine as he struggles to find the strength to get up.

I take a step back, and in a moment of cowardice, take off in the other direction.

_He's as good as dead anyways, no need to do any more work than you have to… _

I take the backpack and sleeping bag that were his before taking off in the other direction, immediately feeling horrible for doing so. I stop and collapse with the stuff and tears threaten to pour out of my eyes. Finally, after so long of not hearing a cannon, I make myself get up.

_I have to go back and put him out of his misery. I just have to. I don't want him to suffer any longer._

I get up, grab everything, and jog back to the jungle. Halfway there or so, I hear a cannon boom, and freeze in place. _I failed to help him. And now he's gone. _

Exhausted and upset, I collapse again right there, curl up into a tight ball, and think. Thinking is dangerous, and unhealthy in an environment like this, but I think anyways. Think of all the other possible outcomes of the day, if I had just ended poor Fabian instead of making him suffer: and making the whole world watch him suffer… Thinking back to if I had killed the girl from 8 with her District partner, considering she's still alive… If I had actually been able to kill Salem…

Then, like an alarm clock, I snap my mind away from the past and to the present, towards the future.

Because there are five of us left now, just five.

And I'm suddenly not so sure if I'm ready for a Victor's life after all.

~.~.

**REGINALD'S POV**

When I wake up that morning, the sun is already up in the sky.

I scowl a little bit, displeased. I had been trying to condition myself to not sleep for long periods of time. It's how I was able to hear what was going on with Laurentina and Fabian. I sigh quietly thinking about it.

I shake the memories away from my mind stubbornly and grab my stuff, preparing to go to the river to get food.

Suddenly, I hear screams. My head snaps up and my legs take me running before I even know where they're taking me. I run forward, towards the screams, toward Fabian, wherever he is.

I have to find him. The only though that replays around and around in my mind, the only thing I can focus on as blurs of blocks come past is, _I have to find him. _

I run towards the screaming and see him there, lying in a puddle of blood.

The impact of the sight is like a punch to the gut. I gasp and the punch of emotion wheezes the breath right out of me and causes me to collapse backwards.

"F-Fabian…"

I run over and kneel next to the bleeding, sweating, crying boy. I wipe the tears from his face with a shaking face. His brown eyes widen and light up dimly when he sees me there.

"R-Reg-"

"Who did this to you?!" Rage shakes through my body and practically blinds me. "WHO DID THIS TO YOU!?" I shake violently and try to control the painful, stinging tears that push out of my eyes.

"S-Seven," he chokes out, gasping and crying.

I know what I have to do. I stand up and take my bow off my shoulder.

_I have to end his suffering. _

I string an arrow and point it at Fabian's chest. My arms shake and jitter violently. Tears pour out of my eyes and I try to stop myself from shaking.

"I'm gonna get him," I say through clenched teeth, "I'm gonna get Luther for you."

"Win," he says, staring at me desperately.

"I'm gonna. I'm gonna go and I'm gonna take care of all those orphans."

"Thanks," he chokes out, waiting, begging, pleading for me to let go of my arrow.

I take a deep breath. This isn't the first time I've aimed my bow at Fabian. But this time, I can rest well knowing that this is the right thing to do. He's doomed, anyways.

It still hurts so much. It hurts so very much.

Finally, I take a deep, gentle breath, shaking less but still shaking, not wanting to do it.

I never wanted to love this boy, I never wanted him as a friend, as a brother. But I guess I never really had a choice.

I release the breath I had been holding, staring into his teary brown eyes.

And I let the arrow go.

_**A/N: Sorry, I just destroyed my feels, man. Anyways, there you are, Happy New Year! Now that we're down to five I'm really ready to get this story done, and I have officially decided the Victor. Again, you can still vote on the poll, maybe that will change my mind… Maybe. **_

_**Chapter Question: What should happen next: feast or natural disaster or mutts? Who should it affect? **_

_**SCORES: **_

_**Kate: 186**_

_**Dreamer: 42**_

_**Jess: 114**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**ThisWorldWeHate: 29**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**Beauty. Is. Strange: 61**_

_**Blue (Guest): 5**_

_**magiccharity: 37**_

_**Ibbonray: 35**_

_**TommyAnderson (Guest): 5**_

_**When The Walkers Come: 6**_

_**epictomguy: 23**_


	16. DAY TWELVE: Candle and Avogadro

**CANDLE'S POV**

That night, I wander to the Jungle to get some water when I'm sure that nobody's watching.

Being nocturnal is risky because you have to sleep in the days, but hunting in the nights isn't such a bad strategy. I'm used to staying up late anyhow, staying up late and training.

Under the stars and the moon, I stop and look at my reflection in the water. My choppy, short, messed up hair, my dirt-smudged face, dull eyes with dark circles under them. I have to say that I'm definitely a different person than the long-haired, calm-eyed girl I was before I volunteered, even when I was standing on my plate as the clock counted down from 60.

My family respects the Games, as I've said, but I find myself respecting them less and less. I used to see the sacrifices as honorable, but now I realize that there's really no more humiliating way to die than in an Arena.

Pride will forever be shamed in history books. He'll be jeered at, people will poke fun at him, for years and years to come people will say _"Don't be a Pride"_ in reference to any number of things he's done, from being a prick to people, getting your girlfriend pregnant, or getting shot by an arrow.

People will make jokes out of him. Well, even more than the joke he made of himself.

I feel a little bad for Fortune, and for Cordovan (because he actually had a chance at Victory, if he hadn't thrown it away), though I can't say that Pride didn't deserve what he got. After emotionally manipulating Cordovan and ruining Fortune's shot at volunteering and her life, I think whole-heartedly that he deserved it.

But, it still doesn't change the fact that he'll be a joke. And I'll be a joke, too, if I die here. I wonder under what pretense people might say, _"Don't be a Candle."_ The saying will fade off eventually, unless it takes off and becomes really popular like, _"Don't let yourself get Osmiumed,"_ which is an idiom for staying alert, based off of how he killed his allies while they were sleeping.

I get some water and submerge my face and hair in the water, taking a second to feel it on my face, and revel in how nice it is to wash up after so long of not washing up.

Maybe tomorrow night I'll actually take a bath. I don't really care if the whole nation sees me naked, it doesn't bother me as much as you might think. I see the human body as something everyone has, and between boys and girls it's mostly all the same, anyways. They're just bodies, it's not like there's anything special about it. It's not like boys don't know what girls are hiding under their clothes and girls don't know what boys are hiding under their clothes.

Oo, boobs, scary.

Oo, dick, scary.

I really don't care, I've never felt shame in what I've got, all bodies are the same to me, and none of them are enough to turn me on, really. I thought it was weird and creepy, my parents let me think that for a while, but when I was able to put a name to it they were suddenly okay with it.

I shake out my hair, letting all the dirt go into the water scrub my face with my hands. When I resurface and the water drips onto my shoulders and back and front, it feels really good.

I shake some of the dripping water out of my hair, grab my two katanas, and go back to walking around and trying to hunt.

I walk, looking around, until I get sluggish and feel like I'm going to doze off with each step. I find a corner to curl up in. It's probably the most hidden place in the Arena, but if someone _does_ find me, I have nowhere to run.

_I can fight them_, I yawn, tucking one sword under me and one beside me. I doze off just as the sky starts to light up.

~.~.

**AVOGADRO'S POV**

The next morning takes about a forever to come, and I'm left by myself, after being an emotional mess throughout these past couple of days.

There are five left. Five left including me.

I could count it on my fingers. Five. Two squared plus one. The square root of four hundred times six divided by twenty-four. The atomic number of boron. The number of valence electrons carbon possesses plus the atomic number of hydrogen. 1011 minus 0110, in binary code. Five.

With each face I see in the sky, I get more hopeful. But I also get antsier. _How long until I have to kill someone else?! _

Salem's final words, his final sign, they all replay again and again in my mind. I've not forgotten a single moment of my life from the time I was four, how'd I ever think I could forget something like that!?

I can't forget Mick and how he died, I'll always remember. Just like I remember every time anyone's ever called me a freak or a nerd or a weirdo or a 2nd grader.

My memory is one of the sharpest and brightest of the ages, I don't forget things. I'll never ever forget the faces and names and stories (no matter how limited) of these people.

God, I'll be a terrible Victor. If I even am the Victor, I mean.

I have this nice stuff, but that means nothing in the long run. I mean, I have a definite advantage, but nothing is guaranteed for anyone, especially not me.

I just have to keep on going, full speed ahead, never giving up no matter what.

I sit by myself that morning, collecting my stuff and trying to pretend I wasn't sleeping with Eddy.

Pausing in my packing, I pick up the teddy bear again, trying to sneak a sniff (he smells like maple syrup and homeliness) but I stop short as a memory comes to mind.

"_Avogadro, come down here now!" _

_I don't like it when my parents yell, but I abandon the logic puzzle I was contemplating and head downstairs to the living room. What I see is preposterous. My Mom hands me a present, though it's no holiday or birthday. _

"_What is this?" _

"_Open it, dear!" Well, I do hate not knowing. _

_I open the box and find a bunch of odd items, some kind of riddle. A bib with soft pink borders, a rattle and a bottle, both pink as well, and a small white teddy bear with pink in its ears and on the bottom of its feet. _

_I look up, and suddenly start to feel sick. "What is this?" _

"_Silly boy, you're going to be a big brother!" _

_I put down the baby stuff. "What?" _

"_There's a baby in Mommy's tummy-" _

"_Please, I'm fourteen, I know how humans reproduce. I just… I didn't hear anything… So everything's still working, then, even though I'm 14? It's uncommon to see siblings with such an age gap-" _

"_Avogadro, don't overthink this. The why's and the how's aren't as important as the now!" _

"_As the present, you mean?" _

"_Yes, of course, honey. You're going to have a baby sister to take care of." _

"_You aren't showing yet, which means that it can only be two months at most, two or three, but judging by-" _

"_Sh!" I bite my tongue. I can't help the rambling sometimes, it just happens on its own. _

"_So are you going to name him after a scientist, then?" _

"_Him?" My Dad asks, "What in God's name would make you think it's a him!?" _

"_Uh, I just kinda-" _

"_You're going to have a sister, Avogadro." I'm not that great at emotional cues, but my mother sounds exasperated. _

"_Ergo the pink accessories," Dad says. _

"_How was I supposed to know that? I mean, pink is a color just like any other, isn't it?" _

"_Pink is for girls, Avogadro, and blue is for boys." _

"_Fine." I still don't get it. "Are you going to name her after a scientist? Because might I suggest-" _

"_We're not, actually." _

"_What? Why not?" _

"_Because, honey, we named you after one and you turned out so…"_

"_So?"_

"_So… So geeky, and so freakishly smart," my Dad fills in. _

"_Okay?" I've heard those words so often it doesn't even hurt anymore. _

"_So we're thinking of names that are more… Popular. More inclined to making her pretty, but dangerous. Inca. Or Inti." _

"_Ancient Indian tribes?" _

"_Yes, that's correct! Now, it's going to be your job to take great care of her, alright?" _

"_What if I'm reaped into the Games?" _

"_Don't say such things! We are a high-class family!" _

Pfffffffft. That's all I have to say about it.

The more time I spend in this place, the more I hate my parents, and my District. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, in all honesty. And I'm not sure if they're really terrible people or if the Capitol is playing mind-games to turn me against them, just like they manipulate the Hunger Games to turn District on District, even though we're really all in the same boat.

I put Eddy in my backpack, after smoothing down the green ribbon tied around his neck. Then I pick up the pretty sword and start on my walk for the day.

I stop short when I hear beeping, though. I look up, and to my surprise a parachute floats down to me.

I will never stop being surprised by sponsor gifts.

I walk over to the parachute, making sure that no tributes are surrounding me, and then open it up and pull out a fairly heavy mold of metal that looks a bit like a sleeveless shirt. I can barely lift it, heaving with effort, but something tells me this is going to come in handy once I can get it on.

A chest plate, I think. A little bit flimsy, but I think that's because if it were any heavier I probably wouldn't be able to move. These things are a lot heavier than you'd think.

I take off my jacket and shirt (great, the whole nation gets to see my pale, freckly chest) and slide the armor on, putting my T-shirt on over it (wow, it fits!) and my jacket on over that (the jacket's a little tight so I don't zip it up, though.

I take a deep breath, tell myself to keep breathing, and walk. Eventually I start doing physics problems in my head, starting with estimating the weight, FW, and then using that to calculate mass and try to guess what metal this might be, though my estimates are so rough that it calculates to no metal I've ever dealt with.

I'm about to figure it out again with some different (probably closer) estimates, when I hear something in the bushes and hold up my sword, alarmed. I see an arrow fly towards me, so fast that I have no time to react before it hits my chest!

Plate. Chest plate.

Oh yeah.

I don't want to risk enduring another shot, so I take off running as fast as I can, as another arrow hits the shield when it should've pierced my back.

I run as fast as I can with the heavy armor (which just saved my life, I think), not looking back, just running straight forward, and no more arrows come flying my way. I guess I've confused the poor boy from Four. Either that, or he's given up.

But Reginald Holloway doesn't seem like the kind to give up so easily.

I run, looking for a hiding spot until I can be sure that Reginald is off my tail. I find a group of blocks clustered together, and run behind to one of the corners.

And suddenly, I see the girl from One.

My heart stops for a second before I remember that I'm armed, and also she's sleeping.

It takes me a second glance to reaffirm that it's her, considering that her hair is short and choppy, and I wonder what the hell kind of fight she got into that got her long, flowing hair cut off. A katana lies beside her, and I'm quick to sneak over and take it. I don't want her to be armed, I just want to be merciful and kill her quick, unlike what I did to Salem.

I put the katana down and then take a breath before I notice another handle under her.

_Smart… _I think to myself. I don't want to risk grabbing the weapon and waking her up so instead I just approach slowly and quietly as possible, not doing as much as breathing.

Like a flash, she jumps up and holds her sword to my chest, sending me stumbling backwards with a surprised scream.

"Morning, Three," she says, voice slightly lower from having just been awakened. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Sure," I say holding up my sword. I have no reason to be afraid of anything, dammit, I'm armed and protected!

"So nice of you to find me," she says, a smirk invading her features. I finally grab my sword and hold it tight with both hands, waiting for her to attack first.

"Glad you think so…" Before I'm even done talking she thrusts her sword forward into my chest, but is surprised when her efforts cause no harm to me and her sword bends.

I take that split second of surprise and drive my sword forward with all my might, stabbing her through the stomach before she can figure out what protected me from her first move. The sword drops out of her hand and she stumbles back as I drive the sword up her abdomen, stopping at her chest where I'm sure to find the heart.

The sharpness of the sword lets me kill with ease, and that's probably the scariest thought I've had in a while.

Blood pours out of Candle, even more so when I take the sword out. I immediately turn around and head out, running far away from there and not waiting to watch her die or even hear a single word out of her.

I'm not five steps away when I hear a cannon shoot off, and realize I've taken another life.

Grief sweeps me off my feet again as I shuffle to the jungle to refresh and to clean yet another tribute's blood off my sword.

Why is it that's I'm always okay with killing until the moment I've done it?

In the back of my brain, I know why.

I sit by myself in the jungle for a while, getting a drink, washing my face, then cleaning my sword.

Four. Four left. The hundredths-place of pi. The seventh root of 16,384. The-

My thoughts are cut off by a rustle in the bushes. I see dark brown hair and swear. I've had just about enough of just about everything today. I run off and hear no one chase me, before I finally collapse and vow to just be done for the day.

I have a measly lunch and officially use up the rest of the food Mick and I got in the very beginning. Then I sit by myself and get lost in my head for the rest of the day.

I snap out of it hearing the Capitol national anthem play and glancing up at the sky. Candle's face, the old Candle, the Candle before the haircut and before the Games, flashes up in the sky, and I have to watch it, knowing that I killed her.

I don't want to go to sleep. I so don't want to go to sleep. I know that I'll have nightmares and wake up crying, sweating, screaming, or a combination. Probably all three.

I don't want to go back home, but I don't want to die, either.

The atomic number of Beryllium. Four.

The Capitol seal flashes in the sky and then disappears.

I pick at a scab on my arm, one that was from before the Games when I lied awake and tried to figure out how I could possibly take care of a baby sister while my parents waited for her to redeem the family name from where I ruined it. I have a lot more to worry about now than such silly things.

Suddenly, I hear a small clicking sound and the shift of a microphone.

"Attention, tributes!" Wow, I never thought Yin Kozart's voice could get any more annoying.

"Yes, attention tributes! There will be a feast at the Cornucopia tomorrow morning strictly at sunrise. Attendance is not mandatory, however it is… Highly advised." Translation: _we're going to have food out and you're going to kill each other over it or else we'll send mutts after you! Haha, happy Hunger Games bitches!_

I sigh to myself, curling up in a sleeping bag to get some shut-eye before the feast tomorrow morning.

"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!"

~.~.

_**A/N: And we're down to four! The item prices are going to be bumped up, so here's the updated list. Also, this stuff is getting expensive, so if you want to sponsor someone with something more pricey, just say so and I'll see if any of the other sponsors are willing to combine points with you. **_

_**Battery (for flashlight/lanterns): 15**_

_**Bandages: 17**_

_**Small Canteen (Empty): 17**_

_**Large Canteen (empty): 25**_

_**Blanket: 25**_

_**Pillow: 25**_

_**Functioning Flashlight: 30**_

_**Small Canteen (with water): 35**_

_**Simple foods (bags of jerky, crackers, or dried fruit): 35**_

_**Well-functioning Lantern (will not burn out): 45**_

_**Basic First-Aid Kit: 40**_

_**Socks/shoes/shirts/extra articles of clothing: 50**_

_**Iodine (to disinfect water): 45**_

_**Large Canteen (with water): 55**_

_**High-Quality Food (bread from a District, meat, broth/soup): 55**_

_**Knife: 65**_

_**Tribute's Favorite Capitol Meal: 55**_

_**Insulated (Plushy) Sleeping Bag: 70**_

_**Complex First-Aid Kit: 70**_

_**Medicine: 75**_

_**Tribute's weapon of choice: 80**_

_**CHAPTER QUESTION: Would you be interested in stories about these tributes friends and siblings [ex. Bright and Brilliant (Candle), Phoebe (Luther), Fritz and crew (Blanche), Georgy, Ivan and crew (Penny), Cordovan and Fortune (Pride), Dolce and Carino (Mick), Inca (Avogadro), etc.]? Which ones are the most interesting? **_

_**Sidenote: HAHAHAHAHA! I'VE FINALLY STRIPPED JESS OF HER INSANE POINTS COUNT! THANKS GADRO! Now everyone's back to normal except Kate, who I guess will have to be my next target. XD **_

_**SCORES: **_

_**Kate: 186**_

_**Dreamer: 54**_

_**Jess: 6**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**ThisWorldWeHate: 29**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**Beauty. Is. Strange: 61**_

_**Blue (Guest): 5**_

_**magiccharity: 5**_

_**Ibbonray: 35**_

_**TommyAnderson (Guest): 5**_

_**When The Walkers Come: 6**_

_**cleverbunny67: 4**_

_**epictomguy: 23**_

_**All rebellions need a spark: 7**_

_**Thanks for reading! **_


	17. DAY THIRTEEN: Avogadro&Reginald

**AVOGADRO'S POV**

I wake up to beeping as the ruby sun protrudes from the periwinkle clouds. Wow, when'd I start using so much imagery? God, I think this arena has changed me. No, I know it's changed me.

It's from the time I spent with Mick. Though he's dumb as a doornail (or, uh, _was_), he taught me more than I'd ever learned in school. He taught me about _life._ He taught me about friendship, and he taught me about love. Lessons that I had never really learned from my parents or teachers or bullies.

The beeping that rings in my ears is familiar to me now. I'm still amazed to hear it. I walk over to the silver parachute and open it up to find some bandages. I take them out and immediately strip once again of my jacket, shirt, and the chest plate to wrap it around the gash Salem made on my stomach. It doesn't really feel that relieving or great (who would want a bandage tied so tightly around the part of your body you use to breathe, really?) but it's definitely a lot easier to move.

I sit by myself and my mind wanders. I'm always thinking, my mind is always cluttered (though it's usually organized), and now it's just a jumble of thoughts that are not pretty.

I relive everything, all the darkest times of my life, all the times when I've screamed in frustration, all the times I've ever stayed awake trying to pull myself together, all the times I've been yelled at and traumatized, all the times I've been beaten by bullies, every time I've ever buried my nails so deep into my arms they bled (only 7 times, the rest didn't actually bleed, which is the beauty of that form of pain)…

I relive the reaping, the dinners eaten with Fahrenheit carrying on light conversation, training and talking to Ian, glancing at the boy from 10 but not giving a second thought to it, not thinking that this person might possibly have the chance to kill me and throw it away, not thinking that later that person over there with the dorky blonde hair and huge smile would later die fighting for me.

That's when I start to panic.

I panic a lot, over a lot of random, dumb things. But it's been a while (exactly two years, three months, four days and seven hours) since I've actually been stressed out and scared enough to descend into a panic attack. I have to coach myself out of it, just like I've done with every surge of worry I've ever felt.

_Breathe, Avogadro. Breathe. _

Images of Mick's bloody corpse, of watching the life leave his eyes, of our last conversation, they all swarm around in my mind as if they're screaming. My heart races and I suddenly have trouble breathing.

_Breathe in. 3.14159. Breathe out. 26535. Breathe in. 8979. Out. 323. In. 84. Out. 62. _

I see Salem in front of me, bleeding out everywhere, signing his final goodbye, tears pouring out of his desperate gray eyes as I stood there and watched.

I gasp for air, I'm either going crazy or I'm just dying right here, I know it.

Images of Candle's betrayed face flash before me, how her features contorted with frustration and even anger. Cleaning the blood off my sword. My breath shakes with tears that aren't quite punctual to appear in my eyes and I start to shake.

I have to get a hold of it before I lose it.

_BREATHE! _I take a big gasp of air and clutch my chest tightly, as if somehow that would help me breathe. With the other hand, I grab Eddy by the head and bury my face in him. It doesn't help with the breathing, but getting a whiff of the comforting smell of maple syrup helps calm my heartrate. I no longer feel like I'm dying, but I still feel an overwhelming sense of fear.

I wrap a hand around my token, the tiny little white and pink rattle that reminds me why I have to get home. Slowly, my thoughts organize themselves again and my heart slows slightly. I get control of my breathing and wipe my face dry of the few tears that managed to escape.

I stroke Eddy's hair gently. Though I am a genius, sometimes too much information comes up that I don't know how to deal with. I can usually do schoolwork with so much ease because math and science are things I know how to do. But when so much social shit sprouts that I don't understand, well, that's when I panic and my head starts to spin.

I put Edison on the ground and stare at the rattle.

"Inti," I whisper, "Or Inca, or whatever they end up calling you…"

_Great. I really am going nuts. I'm talking to a rattle. No. I'm talking to my sister, whoever she is. If I die here, or even if I win, I guess, I want to say something that she can remember her big brother by. And this is my only shot for it to be the real me, because if I win I'm going to change in a lot of not-good ways. _

"I'm your big brother. Somehow." I sigh quietly. "I hope I get out alive so you get to know me." I don't know how much I believe that anymore.

"I want to know you." But I don't want to be a Victor. "And I hope I'm a good brother. But, if I don't, then maybe you'll watch this someday to see what could've been. I hope that you find something in this place, in this nightmare, something to look up to. To aspire to be."

I think. Will she have ginger hair like I do? Will she have freckles? Will she have brown hair like my Dad's? Brown eyes? Who knows? I might.

"And if not in me, look to Mick. He's set an example for me, and he can set one for you, too." Mostly that Mom and Dad know nothing. Just the thought of them fills me up with rage. The lies they've kept, the words they've called their own child, the expectations, the stress they put on me, everything.

"And also-" I'm about to say _I love you already, no matter who you are or where you end up, _but I'm cut off by saber-toothed mutts that are running in my direction.

I look up at the sky and see the sun risen to declare the morning. These mutts are here to claim me for not coming to the feast. I make haste to get up and grab my stuff, carrying Eddy under one arm, rattle in hand, backpack on my shoulders, sword in its sheathe, and run.

I run and run, and the mutts chase me, but it doesn't seem like they're working too hard to pounce. I realize that they must be chasing me to the feast. I know if I stop I'll face death, (and hope to grab some food from the feast) so I don't let my legs stop running no matter what.

I see the horn up ahead and take off, wheezing and heart pumping from adrenaline and fear, and run in a straight line to the feast.

And right into District 8's scythe.

~.~.

**REGINALD'S POV**

I wake up the next morning and feel overwhelmingly numb. After all that's happened, my alliance is gone. The last one of them was wiped out yesterday.

I experienced all of them but Candle's, really. I caused all of them but Candle's, too. Three fateful arrows, three lives taken with them, all of which I knew fairly intimately even though we even talked for a while.

Three arrows, taking a father, a star student, and a best friend.

Two of them were killed out of protection (with secret spite for even daring to attack Fabian or Blanche!), one of them out of pain, sorrow, and mercy. I know there wasn't a prayer Fabian could've done anything to save himself, nor was there anything I could do, anything anyone could do, but it's still eating away at me.

He was my stability and my foundation.

God, what am I even saying? I knew him for a week and a half or so! A week and a half, and yet it feels like I've known him for a thousand years. I feel like we've spent eighteen years together, just like Blanche and I did.

More than eighteen.

My fingers haven't touched any blood other than mine, but my hands are nonetheless blood-stained with more than my own. My arrows are dripping with blood. And soon, they'll be dripping with more blood, as the Games go on.

I almost shot the boy from Three, but he had some kind of armor on… I assume a chest plate. I wouldn't doubt it. I have to wonder what the hell he's doing to get so many sponsors, is he doing the ballet or something that I don't know about to win Capitolite hearts?!

I wonder what in the world could possibly be at that feast that he would have any interest in at all. He has backpacks and sleeping bags and everything else. Ha, kid's probably looking for a calculator or something.

I pack up and go to the Cornucopia, bow over my shoulder. I have five arrows left. Four arrows that I've been able to hold onto. Four arrows that I've either retrieved or not used yet.

I sling my backpack over my back and unsling my bow from my shoulder. It's going to be a long day. If the Capitolites are really getting antsy and not enjoying every second of this like I think they are, the Games might even end today.

Three tributes in one day? That's absurd, if you don't consider the first day. That's always the worst. Usually half of the tributes, sometimes more, sometimes less, die during the Bloodbath.

But, the Capitol wants to see blood: and a lot of it. That's the only explanation I have of why they would call a feast so late in the Games. I wonder what will amount. None of the four that are left are really who I expected. In fact, I expected to see Fabian in the final four, to be honest (which I usually am). And really, none of the four left are really the kind of people I would expect to _torture_.

Then again, I guess Luther already has tortured. He left Fabian to die, refusing to put him out of his misery because he's a bloodthirsty son of a bitch… Or maybe just cowardly.

In the Holloway household, I'm really not sure which would be worse.

I start my walk towards the Cornucopia, hoping that my navigational skills haven't given out on me yet.

I get to the golden horn as the sun is rising, and realize that I'm pretty early. I take a seat, leaning against a block facing the Cornucopia. I'm just going to grab everything I can and run, I really don't want to fight. Then maybe I'll hide and watch.

I eventually close my eyes and doze off.

I wake up to District Three screaming. Out of the corner I see mutts retreating and that the feast has begun. The girl from District Eight, who was originally running towards the food, is now distracted by the prey that's fallen at her feet.

I realize that she doesn't know that he has a chest plate hidden (smartly so) under his shirt and jacket. I decide to not tell her.

I see Luther appear just then, his dark hair sticking out against the light wood pattern of the block he hides behind.

I take off just then, heading for a backpack or two and hoping one or both of them contains some other food than the bland fish I've been living off of. I sneak around, as the others are distracted by the fight, and grab two backpacks before making a quick retreat.

By the time they know I came and went, it's too late for them to stop me. I retreat but hide behind a rock, arrow in my hands, waiting for Luther to leave and getting the perfect shot. But in the meantime, it's fun to watch the fight, too.

Liana swings and jabs her scythe at the boy from Three, who puts up a formidable fight. I stay crouched and hidden behind the block, Luther in the corner of my eye. I quietly dare him to run out to grab some food. He must be as transfixed by this fight as I am.

Finally, the boy drops his stuff (he's got a lot), and fumbles for his sword while holding on to something in his other hand. I wonder if it's a secret weapon or something. He could've gotten anything from a sponsor.

He holds the sword tightly as best as he can, still fumbling to put whatever was in his hand in his pocket.

The sword he has is beautiful. Shiny black serviced, gemmed hilt. And it looks lethally sharp. I wonder how many people he's killed with it. A weapon like that certainly puts my measly bow and arrows to shame, and even Liana's blandly average scythe. But even the scythe is sharp enough to easily take a life.

She finally slashes his stomach, in what she thinks to be the killing blow, but I know better and so does he. Avogadro doesn't even flinch and jabs his sword forward, hitting Liana's shoulder, which I'm sure hurt like a son of a bitch but isn't quite lethal. The two clumsy fighters go back to slashing and trying to weaken each other.

If I were there, and I had a sword like his, well, there would be no stopping me. I considered taking Pride's sword off his body, considering it's a much better close-range weapon, though it is my second-best. Watching them fumble around makes me wish I had taken it after all.

Liana finally gets a good slash in, right across the base of his neck and to his shoulders. In shock, the 14-year-old stumbles backwards, and I already know the fight is decided. Unless he can somehow get himself together and use that sword he got.

I glance over at the block Luther's hiding behind, and see his dark, almost purple-looking eyes, staring, wide and round, at the events unfolding in front of them.

My head snaps back to the fight when I hear a scream, and see that Liana's got him again, right under where the chest plate must end.

He stumbles backwards until he falls on his bottom side, dropping his weapon, and crawls backwards until he hits a block. She follows him closely, obviously trying to figure out how to kill him quickly. I've been there before, too. The chest is the best place for a quick death, but his chest is protected. I watch, interested.

Avogadro stares up at her like a puppy that has nowhere else to go, and finally he whimpers quietly, realizing that he's got nowhere left to go.

The whole area gets even more silent than it already was, as the myself, Capitol, Luther, probably the entire nation, really, hold our breath.

His brown eyes pool up with tears as he gets on his hands and knees in an attempt to do something to help himself, but stops short, bleeding out onto the wooden ground.

"You've won."

The words come out in a weak whisper. She must've gotten in some deep gashes. Either that, or he's cracked under the pressure of the Games, which wouldn't surprise me either. His composure and demeanor are a lot more different today than they were at the beginning of the Games. It was plain to see, even all those days ago when his ally died, that he wasn't going to handle it until the end. Really, why else wouldn't I have killed him there?

Maybe it would've been better for him. He wouldn't be here, gasping for breath and bleeding out. I watch closely, waiting for Luther to come. And, as much as I know I shouldn't look at the scene in front of me, I do anyways.

His eyes are rabid with panic and hurt, and they scream out to the entire nation that he's cracked under the weights that have been thrown upon them.

"My death can't be for nothing," he gasps out tearily, "You have to win, Finely."

"I'll do my very best." She doesn't want to do it. I know she doesn't want to do it. I'm sure I wouldn't want to do it, either, if it were me.

He stares up at her, still on his hands and knees. "Make them sorry."

"What?"

He spits it out in a nasty way, "Kill me in a nasty way. I'm dead anyways." His eyes soften and more tears roll down his cheeks. "I was dead from the time I was stroking Mick's hair as he was dying. I was dead from the time I got reaped…"

"N-Nasty?"

"Take that scythe of yours and do what the Capitol always wanted you to do with it!" he barks. "Make them sorry! Make them sorry they even thought about sending a 14-year-old and a bunch of teenagers into a dome and forcing them to become savage!" He erupts into a shouting, sobbing mess, his words carried away with the wind as they echo, as the whole nation watches. "Make the kids at school sorry, as they see my body, and make them traumatized with every punch and every name they ever called me, every word they ever cussed at me!" He continues, sobbing and wheezing, grabbing his chest, his voice cracking from screaming as he yells with all the spite that's left in him, "Make my parents sorry they ever had a goddamn son!"

He collapses into a sobbing mess, hanging his head down and glancing up at her with just his eyes. "Make them realize they can't fuck up with this one."

There's a long pause of silence, broken only by Avogadro's crying and wheezing.

Finally, he sniffles one last time. "Do it," he whispers quietly. She stares at him, scythe shaking. He looks up again and shouts with the last of his voice that's left, "Dammit, do it!" He hangs his head down again, his hair shaggy and hanging down and shielding his face from my view. It's so silent, I can barely make out his whisper. "I'm going to be brave."

There's another pause, but this time a very short one. Then, Liana swings the scythe with all her might and again and again until his head is cut clean off.

The arm that was supporting him while he was on his hands and knees gives out, and a pink and white baby rattle rolls out of his hands.

We hear a loud cannon, and my heart fills with a heavy, dark, seemingly endless sadness. It's only slightly better than how I felt shooting Fabian.

_Fabian. _

My heart breaks into pieces again thinking about him.

I wonder if I looked how that boy from 3 looked when we saw him, after losing (or almost losing) the boy from Ten. I wouldn't doubt it.

As soon as the cannon booms, Luther takes off. He runs, runs past Liana, as fast as he can, towards the food and backpacks. I quickly pull back the arrow from where I had let it slip in my trance, aim as fast as I can, and shoot. It goes flying past his shoulder and disappears. I quickly string another one but he's gone before I can do it.

I then aim at the girl from Eight, who is still in shock and bleeding from the shoulder.

She quickly snaps back into it, and I let another arrow fly that hits her ankle before she takes off towards the backpacks and takes one. I aim another arrow before I realize that I have two left now and I'd better not waste them.

I take my newly won supplies and sigh to myself, getting up and walking away from there. I go to the jungle and realize I'm the first one there and my navigational skills must not've been as rusty as I had thought.

I quickly wash my face and get a refreshing drink. I decide to wait until I'm hungry to search the backpacks for fear of triggering unpleasant memories of the day. As soon as I'm satisfied with water, I quickly get out of there, leaving it to Luther and Liana to use. I don't think any of us want to see any more death ever in our lives, but especially not today.

I walk aimlessly for a while, though closely keeping track of which ways I turn and occasionally of the colorful or lettered blocks I pass. When I'm satisfied I'm far enough away, I sigh quietly and sit for the rest of the day, my mind eventually wandering to nightmares of the Games so far, and mostly, dread of what's to come.

I've never been scared before in my life. Through everything I've ever been through, even in the Games, I've never been afraid of a single thing.

But after today, it's the only emotion I can feel.

~.~.

_**A/N: Well, this can be added to the list of saddest things I've ever written. I've seriously had this planned since I first got "Dumbledore's Farewell" from Harry Potter. I was just waiting for the perfect moment to use it. This story's going to be rapid updates in anticipation for 36, so sorry to all the sponsors who aren't caught up. I'll try to slow updates until everyone's caught up, but I have no promises. Also, I have a new story! If you at all liked Salem, it's a story surrounding him and all his friends and the generations before and after them. If We Met at Midnight. Also, another important tidbit: I've decided that, if a sponsor pays for an item that isn't used well by the tribute before a death of a disaster, I'll give the gift for a discounted price, because it isn't fair if the item isn't used. Fair? I try to be.**_

_**Chapter Question: Which one of the characters (out of all of them) in this story is the most likable? Which is the most relatable to you? Out of the three left, which would you like to win? **_

_**SCORES: **_

_**Kate: 186**_

_**Dreamer: 66**_

_**Jess: 21**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**ThisWorldWeHate: 17**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**Beauty. Is. Strange: 61**_

_**Blue (Guest): 5**_

_**magiccharity: 5**_

_**Ibbonray: 35**_

_**TommyAnderson (Guest): 5**_

_**When The Walkers Come: 6**_

_**cleverbunny67: 4**_

_**epictomguy: 23**_

**_All rebellions need a spark (I think you changed your name to The Freedom of the Wolf, though. If not, sorry!): 7_**

_**Thanks for reading! **_

_***runs away from all my readers***_


	18. DAY FOURTEEN: Liana&Reginald

**LIANA'S POV**

The next morning, I wake up and the only thing I want to do is go back to sleep. My ankle throbs, my shoulder is killing me, and all I have to show for it is one backpack. I have more supplies than I had yesterday, but I'm in a lot worse shape physically than before.

I get up and stretch out, cracking my back and sending a fresh jolt of pain to my shoulder. Finally, I make myself sit up and open up my backpack to look at what I got. I had meant to grab a plate of those mashed potatoes Nolan and I went crazy about, but my fight with the kid from Three kind of distracted me from that.

I glance down at the scythe in my hands and my stomach turns. I still can't believe I actually did it. My hand starts to shake and I promptly put the weapon down. I can't show any signs of weakness if I want sponsors, especially being the only girl left with two tall, strong boys.

Reginald has a very dry, honest attitude that makes him seem as scary as he is tall. As for Luther, he's been telling everyone he's a monster and not to be trusted since the second he was reaped. Who doesn't bet on the towering, strongly-built monster with no regard for human life?

Then again, he spared mine, once.

It seems like a century ago, a century ago that Nolan was trudging after me, complaining quietly. It feels like Nolan's been dead for years and years like Ryann has. My memories of him are faraway and distant, blurry and fuzzy. But, in reality, it's been eleven days. Not even two weeks.

It feels like about three centuries ago that I was back home in Eight, saying a last goodbye to Nina in the Justice Building.

It seems like fifty centuries ago that I was sitting at home, calmly embroidering a dress as I watched Bronx compete in the Hunger Games. I remember it like it was so long ago, when really it was just about a year ago that he strangled the boy from Two to death with nothing but his bare hands. I remember sitting at home and being disgusted at him for taking another life, no matter the situation.

I sigh quietly to myself. I wonder what one-year-ago-me would say now. I've taken lives.

But, overall, it feels like forever ago that I was living in District 8, living my calm life by day and working at the black market with Ryann in the nights.

None of these periods of my life have been so great, but compared to this, starving quietly and calmly in the confines of my own home with someone I loved seems like being the President of Panem.

Tears bubble in my eyes, and I push them away. I can't be thinking like this. But the darkness eats me up and I just want to go home. I want Nolan back, and Ryann, and I want Bronx back before he went into the Games, and I want Nina and the dirty factories back, and I just want to have the illusion that maybe I could be happy again someday back.

I want Nolan to be back at home, buying drugs from us and our competition, because I didn't really mind. I want Avogadro to be back home in District 3 and make a friend that would help him deal with the bullies and stand up to his parents. I want Josie to be back in District 9 and raise enough money to move out and never see her parents again. I want Salem to be back in District 12 with his girlfriend and patch things up with his brother. I want Fabian to be back at home with his orphans, Pride with his girlfriend, Mick with his dogs, Blanche with her brothers, Dianne with her boyfriend, Penny with her siblings, and Candle with her best friend.

I want Reginald to be back in 4, taking care of his Mom. And I want Luther to be back in 7 and make a friend so special to him that they help him change.

But I'm reduced to nothing but _if only_'s. If only the Capitol wasn't oppressive. If only these stupid Games didn't exist. If only they didn't brainwash us to kill each other.

If only.

There's nothing I can do about it now, though. It's either kill or be killed. And I don't like to kill, but I don't want to die.

I survey the contents of my backpack, and they include a knife, bags of jerky and crackers, an empty canteen, a roll of bandages, and a thin, folded up blanket.

Some prize.

I make myself stand up and let out a groan of pain when weight is put on my ankle, leaning against a block to catch my breath through clenched teeth. I walk to the jungle and fill the canteen, washing out my ankle wound and my scythe.

Suddenly, I see a silver parachute fluttering down from the sky. I get up to meet it and take it, putting it on the ground to open it. When I open it, I pull out a little red and white box, breathing a sigh of relief. First aid.

I open the box and immediately take out some rubbing alcohol wipes to clean my wounds. Taking a deep breath, I press the wipe to my wound and wince as it stings. I count to five through clenched teeth and then splash water on the wound, groaning a bit and wincing but trying to keep a straight face.

After washing out my wound, I dry it off and wrap bandages around both my ankle and my shoulder wounds. They're not great, and they still sting like hell, but they're both better so I decide to stop complaining and just live with it.

I walk as much as I can make my injured ankle walk before finally stopping to take a break and sit with my leg out for a bit in hopes to get some of that swelling down. I pick at some jerky and realize how much I really don't like how it tastes. I sigh quietly to myself and lean my head against the block, focusing on taking deep breaths.

Suddenly I hear footsteps.

I swear quietly to myself.

And, as much as I don't want to, I brace myself for a fight.

~.~.

**REGINALD'S POV**

The next morning I wake up and feel completely exhausted for the first time since I arrived at the Arena. I want to do nothing but close my eyes. I don't want to get up, I don't want to battle. I want to go to a bed and sleep there.

I wish.

I force myself to sit up and stretch, trying to wake up. My body complains at being aroused before the sun appears in the sky, but the sky is bright and signifies that the sun will most likely appear soon. Yesterday was just such an exhausting day, with the feast and everything that happened.

Being reminded of Fabian and thinking about him for a long time as the sun was sinking.

Having to watch a fourteen-year-old that really did nothing wrong, nothing against the Capitol or anyone, an innocent little kid die in such a gruesome way. I wish I had just killed him with his ally, then maybe he would've rested in peace.

I walk to the jungle, bow strung and held up threateningly.

I don't want to use either of my last two arrows, but if I don't have a choice, I will. Upon seeing no one left, I put my stuff down and get a drink at the river before washing my face.

After splashing the cool water on my face, I realize that over the course of these thirteen days, my facial hair's grown a lot. I have a definite five o'clock shadow, maybe even more than that, who knows?

I sigh quietly to myself, cursing my facial hair. Then I stand up, fully awake and ready to trudge through another day here. It can't be much longer before I can finally go home. There's only three left.

I'm at the home stretch, and all I have to do it kill two more times and I'll be back in District Four with my mother and I'll get to live in the Victor's Village. I know that a Victor's life must absolutely reek besides that, but I'm ready to handle it. In fact, I'm just about ready to be anywhere in the nation but here.

I open my backpacks to survey the contents. The first one is a dud; it just has a sleeping bag and a pillow inside, both of which I already have from sponsors. After checking all the pouches, I grumble and put that one to the side. The other one, though, has a lot of good stuff in it. There's a couple bags of dried out food, a small jar of peanut butter, a big flashlight and batteries for it, two rolls of bandages, and a clean new T-shirt. In the other pouches, I find a bottle of iodine and a canteen (though it's empty).

I quickly organize the backpack so I know where everything is easily, smiling a bit. Sure, this food isn't the delicious plates of steaming hot Capitol delicacies, but it's food that isn't those gross fish. Maybe the water will be more enjoyable, too, now that I have something to purify it.

I take a couple crackers and the tiniest dab of peanut butter to eat while I walk. I have two arrows left, and there are two tributes left. These are two shots that cannot fail. I have enough faith in my ability as an archer that I immediately go off in search of either Liana or Luther.

I walk through the morning, until the morning turns into afternoon, and find nothing. After stopping for a brief lunch of some dried fruit and a cracker, I continue my hunt for tributes. Soon, I see spots of blood on the ground that I would assume to be from someone who may've recently gotten stabbed in the shoulder… Or had an arrow shot through her knee.

I keep on the trail until the blood spots get smaller and smaller and then disappear. I look around for any sign of life in the area. And I don't see one until there's a scythe to my neck.

She doesn't look very good at all, pale with dark circles under her eyes, hair everywhere… She looks like she wants to get home just about as much as I do. Honestly, at this point in the Games, who wouldn't?

The nice thing is that, since she's ready to get this over with and I am, there will be no chasing or monologues. We don't want to revel in the killing of someone else anymore, frankly both of us just want this to end as soon as possible.

Just before she attacks, I string my arrow. I take extra caution to aim and plan the shot, considering I'm going to have to ration these arrows pretty tightly. She takes her scythe back and swings it forward, successfully slashing my chest as I jump out of the way. Finally, I take a shallow breath and let the arrow fly.

It hits its target spot-on, just like at training, and my attacker collapses. I quickly kneel down to retrieve the arrows that killed her and attempt to save the arrow left in her ankle.

Kneeling by her, I realize how numb I've become to killing people. How indifferent to taking lives I've been. I frown and try to overt my attention from her horror-struck face. The body goes stiff and my stomach turns sadly. I sigh and try not to shake as I reach out and close her eyes gently.

Then, I retrieve the arrow that took her life, and lucky for me, it can be reused. Now I have two arrows for one more life.

_I can definitely do that, _I think as her cannon booms. I sigh, realizing how much blood's on my hands. I really did kill a lot.

But, I know that I can't think about that until I shoot two more arrows and take one more life.

Having two arrows for Luther shouldn't be too hard. After all, he's not very fast or agile. The thought looms that at the feast he outran an arrow of mine, but I shake them away, sighing.

After all, a Holloway never misses the same shot twice.

~.~.

That night, I have some more peanut butter, letting myself take half the jar with the assumption that I'm not going to spend much longer in here.

The Capitol anthem starts to play and I remember when I was humming it like it was a good thing in the very beginning of the Games. I remember how much fun I had at training and during interviews. All the meals I thought were absolutely amazing and ate more than my share.

I let myself have fun, and I guess it was a good way to send my last couple weeks of being… Well… Me. The Games have changed me, and I'm sure over time they'll change me even more. I'm not ready for it, but I can survive it. After all, isn't that what I've been doing for days and days now?

Liana's face appears in the sky, and I watch another memory disappear, taken by my bow.

Just one more, I think quietly.

One more memory that I have to take. One more person that smiled, laughed, had something or someone he loved enough to survive these godforsaken Games until the final two. The Games aren't worth surviving through unless you've got something to return to.

He's never said anything about a friend or family member or someone he needed to get back to. I have to wonder who or what it is.

But, I guess that someday, I'm going to find out.

When I'm standing in District 7 and making a speech during my Victory Tour.

_**A/N: And we're down to the final two! Last chance to sponsor! Also, an excited announcement: Project 36 is officially started! I'm going to have 8 of tributes, six of which will have a POV in the story. The rest are going to be submitted by YOU! I'm going to put the rules for submitting, template, and list of available tributes up so that everyone who reads this story gets first dibs before I post the prologue. You'll get points for submitting a tribute, but I'm not sure how many yet. Anyways, yeah. **_

_**Chapter Question: Besides the final battle, I think each one of the final two is going to reflect on some kind of memory. So what kind of memories do you want to see? Childhood, life back home, or Games? Or a mix? **_

_**SCORES:**_

_**Kate: 186**_

_**Dreamer: 38**_

_**Jess: 26**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**ThisWorldWeHate: 17**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**Beauty. Is. Strange: 61**_

_**Blue (Guest): 5**_

_**magiccharity: 5**_

_**Ibbonray: 35**_

_**TommyAnderson (Guest): 5**_

_**When The Walkers Come: 6**_

_**cleverbunny67: 4**_

_**epictomguy: 23**_

**_All rebellions need a spark: 7_**


	19. DAY FIFTEEN: Luther

_**A/N: Final battle time! After this there will be a chapter for Victor's life, and then three or four chapters of epilogues for the families of the deceased. Then 36! Speaking of, if you submitted a tribute for that (submissions are OPEN!), I'm not putting your points on for that yet because I don't know how many I want to give. **_

_**Sidenote: The final two were originally gonna be Luther and Avogadro but my friend Dreamer suggested in one of her reviews that mutts chase Luther and Reginald to make them fight and I liked the idea so much I changed this and reconsidered the Victor. Whether or not I changed it, though, is for you all to find out… Anyways, thanks for the plot Dreamer!**_

_**CHAPTER QUESTION: Which of the 24 tributes do you think was the easiest to root for? Who (out of all of them) do you think had the most potential as a Victor? Who (out of all) do you think is the strongest characterization/most realistic?**_

_**SCORES:**_

_**Kate: 206 (Child I will get rid of all those points somehow mark my words) **_

_**Dreamer: 43**_

_**Jess: 26**_

_**falyn. oliver: 43**_

_**seaotter99: 22**_

_**ThisWorldWeHate: 17**_

_**Blonde4ever: 62**_

_**Beauty. Is. Strange: 61**_

_**Blue (Guest): 5**_

_**magicharity: 32**_

_**Ibbonray: 35**_

_**TommyAnderson (Guest): 5**_

_**When The Walkers Come: 6**_

_**cleverbunny67: 4**_

_**epictomguy: 23**_

**_All rebellions need a spark: 7_**

* * *

**LUTHER'S POV**

I wake up the next morning and want to go back to sleep. In fact, I want to sink into an ocean and hit the bottom and just lie there forever.

But, no time for worrying about that now, so I make myself roll over until I finally wake up. The good news about being in the final two is that the Capitol won't let this fight be a dud. When they want us to fight, we're both going to know. Nothing will start before that, and nothing after it.

I wonder what the Head Gamemaker has in store for us. I don't think I want to know.

I sit up and glance at the backpack I won. It's a little hard to believe I got it, after what I've been through. I find a First Aid kit inside and tend to some of the wounds that Salem left when we had our fight before. I have to wonder who brought the guy to his knees. Salem was a real fighter.

I take a knife that was hidden inside and slip it in the side pouch, where I could reach it quickly if I lost my axe.

I sit by myself as I pick at some peanut butter and think about the Games. It feels like I've been in this Arena for years and years, but now my chance, my one chance to get back to at least a ghost of the life I lived before, is right before my eyes. I may've killed. I may've said and done things that aren't right. I might've been a monster, but haven't I always been? Casey's fucked me up I don't know what to believe anymore.

I pick at all the food left in my backpack, ready to leave today. Casey may be sitting in front of her TV and watching, but so is Phoebe. So are my parents. So's my team. There are people I have to get back to. I have a whole District to feed.

I wonder if Reginald's on the hunt. I wonder if he's looking for me as we speak. I, for one, am not worried. He's a tall, slender guy, it's hard for him to blend into anything. Besides, the Capitol wouldn't just let him sneak up on me, anyways. That'd be much too easy, and not gruesome enough for them. It's sick, but I try to forget about it and focus on the positives of living through just one more battle.

My little brother Tate. His round brown eyes and his shaggy, dark hair. His smile, his freckles, the gap between his two front teeth. His laugh, his positivity, his constant concern for those that surround him. His ability to cheer people up. His innocence.

But also his empty stomach. His blindness, and having to try and figure out how to even live without being able to see. I wasn't a terrible brother like Salem, but I definitely wasn't great.

My Mom and Dad. Their love and support. Their concern for me and my life. The blood, sweat, and tears that went into raising two boys in such terrible conditions. The work they've done, in these terrible conditions, to get money in their pockets and food on the table.

The sacrifices they've made, even though I haven't been such a great son.

And Phoebe. My best friend, whose parents don't accept her for who she is even though she definitely deserves it. Hasn't said one mean word in her life, I'm sure, even when bullies are mean to her. A lot of people still call her Connor and address her like she's a boy. If I'm gone… Who knows what will happen?

I've gotten detention for beating up her bullies countless times.

The Peacekeepers were the worst. I've gotten whipped before, for standing up for her. The first time it was just 20 times, the second forty and the third sixty. And the fourth would've been eighty if I had been there when it happened.

_When I wake up, I'm lying on my kitchen table, Phoebe stroking my hair gently. _

"_You idiot," she says quietly. "You need to just let them go. They are Peacekeepers." _

"_I don't care." _

"_Luther." _

"_I don't care if it's the president of Panem, nobody gets to say those things to you." _

"_Please, you have to be careful, you could end up dead, and that's the last thing that'd be good for me…" _

"_I'll be fine. I'm strong, am I not?" _

"_Yeah, but…" _

"_Relax. Okay?" _

"_Only if you promise to be more careful." _

"_Fine." _

"_Thank you." _

_The door opens. "Luther! Oh God, are you alright!?" _

_I sit up. "Hi Casey." _

"_What are you doing here?" her face twists at Phoebe._

"_Just leaving," she mutters, giving me a stern look. I give her an apologetic frown as she turns and leaves. _

"_What happened?!" Casey asks, looking concerned. _

She does love me… She does love me, I'm sure she does…

"_I just got whipped for defending Phoebe, that's all." _

"_Why would you defend him!? You're only egging him on, Luther!" _

"_Respect her pronouns." _

"_Give this game up, Luther! You're not kids anymore, it's not cute or funny for him to be wearing dresses anymore!" _

"_Nobody gets to say those things about Phoebe, and that includes you!" Rage bubbles in my gut that threatens to explode at any second. _

"_Let it go! I'm your girlfriend, and what I say goes! You cater your life around me, it's all about me, and it's time to grow up and face the facts that you'll be working forever to make money to be spent on me, and you'll live for me, me and only me! And you'll do what I say!" _

"_Not happening!"_

"_Tell Connor to stop dressing up and face the facts. Tell him to cut his hair, tell him to wear his boy clothes, and tell him to stop pretending he's something that he's not!"_

_Before I can realize what I'm doing, I slam her against a wall. "Shut up and don't you dare say another thing about her! She's stuck by my side through every piece of shit that's been thrown in my face!"_

"_She doesn't matter! I'm the only one that matters to you!" _

"_That's not how this works!" _

_My fist makes contact with her jaw and she shrieks. "ABUSIVE!" _

_I stumble backwards and drop her. _

"_You're abusive, Luther Pultzer! You hurt me, the only girl that will ever love you!" _

"_I-I'm sorry…" _

"_Everything is always your dumb fault because you're weak!" she shouts. "You're lucky I'm forgiving! Do you understand my words!?" I wipe a tear away and nod. _

"_Good. I'll talk to you later, then." She walks out and I watch. _

And so started my inner war with myself. Lots of nights of lying awake. Early mornings, wandering through the vast woods with their towering trees. Late nights, staring up at the stars by myself and trying to figure out who I want to be. I still don't know.

Every time I'm with Casey she makes me feel like a monster. Maybe I am. I do hurt her a lot. She cries a lot when she's with me. She talks to lots of other people to make her feel better. And everyone else stays away from me, because they know I'm abusive.

But my family, and Phoebe, they make me feel like a protector. Like some kind of hero. Every time I get home and Tate recognizes the sound of my footsteps to ask how my day ways. Every time I punch some guys in the face for them to leave Phoebe alone and she hugs me through tears. Every time I walk home from work with my Dad and press the coins I earned into his palm. Every time my Mom tells me good night.

And now, in this Arena, the ease with which I killed… But also the ease with which I let Liana go. It's a battle to keep my very soul stitched together at this point.

I jump up, knowing I have to get out of my own head before I tear myself to pieces.

I start to walk, ignoring the tears that try to push out of my eyes. I can't really deal with them now. I don't think I'll ever be truly able to cry again without feeling like a giant pussy. Then again, I haven't cried without feeling weak or inferior since I was a baby.

Strong. Strong strong strong. Always have to be strong. Always have to stand tall, always have to keep a straight face or else that shows that I'm just weak. Always have to be polite, stay quiet and serve my girlfriend, work for money, and continue to be simple made of stone.

Always.

Never crack, never crumble, watch a fucking fourteen year old boy _decapitated by his own wish_ and keep a straight face, kill and torture without a second glance, what have the Games _done_ to me?!

They've made me so much worse. But I know if I can just make it home, maybe Phoebe and Tate and my parents could fix me… Maybe Casey would forgive me and we could be happy… Maybe…

I pace around the jungle in circles, just waiting for the Capitol to send Reginald to me. I wonder how his fight with Liana went. I have to think about something other than myself for fear of losing it. The afternoon passes in a cycle of wandering around, changing bandages, and eating snack.

In the late afternoon, I decide I can't take it anymore and go to the jungle to fill my canteen. I approach with caution, checking my surroundings.

He's there. In his dark green jacket, a backpack over his shoulders with one single arrow sticking out of it.

"You left Fabian to die," the deep voice purrs quietly. It almost sounds like he's… smiling.

"I knew you would come around," he says, laughing a bit, "And I've been waiting…"

I stare, in shock, not sure if I'm ready for this fight and not sure if I'm even sane enough to make it to the end.

He straightens out from where he was hunched over, looking at the water. "May the odds be ever in your favor, Luther Pultzer."

~.~.

He whips around and lets an arrow fly, at the same second that I start running. I'm not ready for this yet… I'm not ready!

Suddenly giant beings pounce on Reginald, who scrambles up and starts running towards me. The giant beasts have giant teeth and large, round eyes. I start running, running with Reginald, trying to find some place to get away from them.

Soon I see his tall figure beside me and realize he's about to pass me. I beg my body to run faster for fear of being in the back, but it refuses to comply with my wishes.

Reginald runs up ahead and I can hear the growling of the mutts that are probably tight on my trail. I think of my family and keep on running, as much as it hurts. Suddenly, up ahead, Reginald trips and goes down with a strained scream.

I don't even hesitate. As I run past, I reach down and grab his wrist, hoisting him up to his feet as the mutts get closer. He's about to say something but I keep on running straight forward without another word, him lagging behind.

I hear him grunting with effort behind me, and when I turn around I see him aiming his last arrow desperately.

I run forward as fast as I can as the arrow lodges itself in my arm and I realize that he's weaponless now.

I take off, hoisting myself up onto blocks to try and get on the highest one in the area, hopefully away from the mutts. Reginald realizes what I'm doing too late because by the time he gets it I'm already higher than he can jump.

He freezes, trying to figure out what to do in a panicked frenzy.

I realize in that split second that I don't want him to suffer any more, I don't want anyone to suffer anymore, I don't want to be the cause of any more prolonged, bloody deaths… So, I grab his wrist and pull him up onto higher ground with me, just in time for the mutts to keep running forward, in a straight line, right past us.

He collapses onto his knees, and I realize that I'm the last one standing. And that I'm home free.

And that, by simply letting this axe go, it's over. I'm out of here. But I don't know if I even want it anymore. He looks up at me with stern, honorable green eyes.

In a split second, the very fabrics that make up my emotions start to tear. My soul starts to lash out at itself, the stitches that so delicately held my very sanity together rip, piece by small piece, until two warring halves are released, each fighting and lashing out at each other.

My soul, my emotions, my very last glimpses of sanity tear themselves to shreds.

_And then, as if I'm not even in control of my own actions, in one dizzy movement that makes me feel as if this is nothing but a dream, I turn the axe on its wielder, and let it drop. _


	20. Victory Tour

I wake up, jolting straight up and gasping for breath through screams.

It takes a second to realize where I am and what's just happened. Sweat drips down my forehead, and my hands tremble as if I was really holding an axe just seconds ago.

Taking deep breaths, I bury my face in a pillow, trembling. Loose tears escape my eyes. If only it had been that easy to die. I thought the Arena was challenging, but it's nothing compared to what comes afterwards.

Casey sits up and wipes her eyes tiredly, scowling. "What the hell is wrong with you now?" she asks.

"I'm okay," I gasp out, trying to keep my voice steady thought it won't cooperate enough to do so.

"I'll go get you some water," she sighs getting up, "God, living with you is such a burden." She shakes her head and walks out to the kitchen. The tears flow freely, and lately I haven't stopped them, not that I've really tried. I've had this nightmare plenty of times before, but it never took such a turn as this one.

A glance at the TV shows how my Games _really _ended. After lugging Reginald up on the Cornucopia, I made the mistake of looking into his eyes, as he was completely at my mercy. That was the day that really changed me. I didn't know who I was, or who I wanted to be, but I wanted to find out.

I dropped the axe on him, and he didn't even scream. He died a noble death, and he died a quick one. I at least owed him that one.

As my axe hits the Reginald on the television, I look away and scream into my pillow. Fumbling for a remote, I quickly change the channel just as Yin's voice rings out, "Everyone, Luther Pultzer, the Victor of the 41st Hunger Games!"

Living through it once is certainly a nightmare enough.

Casey comes back in, handing me a glass and some crackers to eat. I mumble a thanks, getting up to wash my face. Casey goes back to bed, yawning, and not even saying good night or asking if I'm alright.

I come back to the bedroom, curling up in bed and watching the mindless TV show, some Capitol program, that isn't really interesting until I hear my name and look up.

"Luther Pultzer: where is he now? As the Capitol prepares eagerly to celebrate the now 17-year-old Luther's victory in this year's past Games, the 41st, we wonder how the old chap is assimilating to Victor's life."

I nibble on a cracker and sip water, ready to stay quiet and listen to the juicy details of my life. Honestly, it's been such a long six months that I would really like to know.

"Since winning the Games, Luther has moved out of his house and into a new, much nicer estate in the Victor's Village with his long-term girlfriend, Casey Newell. Since moving in, the couple has adjusted well to the glamour of our Capitol lifestyle."

As much as I hate the Capitol, they make me feel like a hero. I know that's just how they control Victors, but I'm stupid enough to believe the things I see. Sometimes, when I feel down (which is more and more often nowadays, I'm afraid), I remember the fan letters and the nice words all around from them. Not that any of that excuses their abuse of the Districts, and it definitely doesn't excuse the horrors of the Games, but when I see a letter addressed to me in the sloppy writing of a five-year-old, it makes me think that maybe life isn't always just threats and alcohol.

"Luther's little brother Tate is getting better and better each day, and Luther is preparing to invest in a seeing-eye dog for the young 6-year-old. When asked about the effect the victory had on him, Tate said:"

They say the quote in a generic little boy's voice that definitely isn't my brother's: "'I'm just glad to have my big brother back safe!' Luther has often been seen carrying the little boy around on his shoulders, which raises curious questions: Will he soon be prepared for fatherhood? Will he start a family with Casey? What will come of this young man?"

I spit out the water I was drinking. The _last _thing I want is to be a father. In fact, I think I would rather just take a couple of pills and be done with it.

I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down before going back to calmly sipping water and munching on food.

"We caught up with Casey Newell, Luther's girlfriend. She said that the couple is more than happy together, and have been dating for two years. In an exclusive interview, Luther said, 'She's the one that keeps me grounded. I'd be lost without her.'"

It takes effort to swallow the water instead of spitting it out all over the place. I do remember saying that, but definitely _not _about Casey. I was talking about Phoebe, dammit!

"We think a proposal may be on its way!"

I choke on the crackers, wanting to throw something at that woman on the TV or maybe wring her thought. Since winning the Games, I've become even more irritable, and I take out my anger violently all the time. I still work cutting down trees because I find that it's the only way I can cope with anger anymore without hurting anyone. And somehow, Casey still blames our problems on me.

"Luther still works to help his District today," she says it with a tone of reverence, "Which goes to show that the true spirit of a hero is one that never stops working for the good of others."

What bullshit.

"Besides his family and girlfriend, Luther also spends time with his best friend, Phoebe Reichert. Phoebe, a trans girl born as Connor, has often been seen around the Capitol with Luther, as she goes through the transformation from man to woman." _At least they use her pronouns, _I think grudgingly.

My heavy eyes want to close but I don't let them, for fear of having another nightmare. If I awaken Casey again, I'm sure bad things will happen.

"Phoebe has reportedly been doing very well and is looking for a man for herself. Well, it looks like we're running out of time for tonight, but if you see Luther during his Victory Tour and have the honor of shaking his hand, give him the Capitol's warmest regards-"

I change the channel, trying to find something dumb to control my rage.

I sit in angry silence until four-thirty or so, when I crawl out of bed, wrap up in a warm coat and heavy boots, and leave the house without even combing my hair. My escort would have a fit, but I don't care.

I heave my axe over my shoulder and walk to the woods, taking deep, heavy footsteps. I take a seat on a stump and look up at the stars, at the sky that's about to lighten.

_Six months._ It's only been six months. Six months and I'm on the brink of going crazy.

Cyprian, my mentor, says that the first six months is always the worst, and I'm sure that's true. But, always a speaker of the cold, hard truth, he also said that it really doesn't get much better from here. And I believe that, too. Every word my mentor has said to me has been treated as gold. He knows what's best, he's been through all of it before.

Suddenly, I hear light, quiet footsteps and jump a little, looking up. Phoebe sits next to me softly, her round eyes twinkling calmly in the faint light.

"How're you holding up?" she asks softly.

"Pretty awful."

"You need to get rid of Casey," she says. "And take Tate and your parents into your house with you."

"Tate couldn't stand to live with me. I wake up screaming every night."

"Fine, as long as you get rid of Casey. She's not doing you any good."

"The Capitol loves her."

"Luther."

"If we break up, I'm the bad guy!" There's a pause, and I sigh quietly, "I really care about her, Pheebs."

"I know you do, but you have to see how badly she treats you…"

"I know, but… maybe…"

"Luther."

"Maybe-"

"It's not going to change! She's not going to magically wake up one day and realize that your feelings matter. It's not going to happen, Luther."

"We have some fluffy times…"

"Compare that to the number of screaming matches you've had."

I can't think of a comeback.

"Exactly."

"I just… I don't want to do it…" I don't want to admit that I'm afraid of her. I can't be afraid of a girl, surely not a Victor, someone who's won the Games, someone who's got the blood of 23 others on his axe even if the weapon never touched them… Scared by someone so silly like a girl.

"Luther, sometimes it's scary to let go of something you care about. But you'll only be happier in the long run. Think about it."

I see the hoard of men going off to work, and soon Phoebe and I get up to join them.

~.~.

The Tour is a real nightmare.

My escort had assured me that I'd be just fine seeing everyone and to think of it "as a rousing, whirlwind tour of the Districts. And remember, it's all about you!"

I thought I could be okay with that, I thought it for a long train ride, and for a long ride in a truck reading the speech card that had been written for me. I thought it as I was announced and walked out on stage to no applause.

Then I looked over at the families, and I knew I was all wrong.

On Salem's side, a skinnier, taller, cuter version of him. Same hair, same eyes, same facial shape. And this one, he looks younger than Salem, holds his mother's hand tightly and looks at the stage, at me, with sparkly, teary gray eyes. On Antoinette's side, a single father and a tall, stone-faced boy that looks to be about my age.

The tears are sluggish, and in the window of time when I'm without them, I make my speech quickly, not looking up from the notecard, not daring to make eye contact with anyone or even run the risk of doing so. As soon as I'm done I get a few claps from some of the pitying audience members before I'm guided away from there, and I'll never have to go back. Somehow I think that the faces and atmosphere won't be so easily forgotten.

District 11, a bright and only slightly chilly place (compared to the currently snowy District 7), is next on the list. On the side of the boy, Reed, two parents and an older sister. On the female side, Tierra, is nothing but a father.

We make it to District 10 early and they let me off the train slightly early to freshen up in the Justice Building. After a while of pacing, I finally get permission from my escort to go outside, and do so quickly and thankfully to get some fresh air.

When I leave the building, two dogs quickly bound over to sniff me, but they're not in great condition. Covered in snow, hair matted, dangerously thin… But they're nice and they lick my hand so I pat their heads and actually laugh a little bit. I wonder if these dogs have been left out here. Or if they're waiting for someone to return.

My stomach drops and the dogs notice when I stop patting their heads and ruffling snow out of their fur.

"You're not waiting for Mick… Are you?"

At the sound of his name, the dogs get excited and start jumping around, barking quietly. My eyes pool up with tears and I suddenly feel very cold and also very hollow. My body trembles with cold and with sadness that not even a little wisp of happiness can stay anymore. "Well he's not coming home," I growl, and quickly go back inside and vow to stay there.

On Teegan's side is a little girl, no more than 4, with wide navy eyes and ginger hair just like Teegan, with her parents. On Mick's side, two tired-looking, run-down parents. I stare at the card, trying to get the words out.

_I can break down on the train later. _

District Nine is fairly easier. On Josie's side, two parents that look bored, not critical or upset. On Ian's, just a mom that looks about ready to depart from life herself.

District Eight stings. I knew both of those tributes, I talked to them, I killed one. On Liana's side, a couple of parents and a little girl that could possibly be related to her. On Nolan's, one father that looks hung-over (I know how that looks and feels), and Bronx Stringer, Victor of last year's Games.

District Six is fairly easy (well, easy compared to the others), considering that both their tributes died on the first day. Lincoln, the boy, has a big group on the stage, two parents, two boys, and two girls. Dianne has two parents, and one tall, skinny girl.

District Five isn't great, but not the worst. The boy was a Cornucopia. On Rhett's side are two young-looking parents. On Penny's side, two parents and three little boys. The boys avoid looking at me, except for the youngest, who keeps his eyes critically trained on me. He can't be more than, what? Five, six? I avoid his eyes, looking down at the speech card and talking clearly and hurriedly.

I spend the entire ride to District Four staring out the window and not talking. Vivienne, my escort, taps my shoulder repeatedly, but I don't look up. "Luther," she says, "Luther…"

"Leave him be, I'll get 'im." I stare ou the window, not intending on talking to anyone.

Cyprian sits down next to me. He won the 10th Hunger Games when he was 17. I respect him and listen to his advice, but there's no way I'm talking to him.

"You've been doing well," he says. The man doesn't usually talk a lot, especially not when Vivienne is around. I don't say anything, staring quietly out the window.

"This is going to be the hardest part," he says. I don't say anything, keeping my expression stone-hard.

"I know you can do it."

I know that too. I sigh and look out the window quietly, not saying a word.

"Stick to the notecard, okay?" I give the tiniest nod, staring out the window numbly, shutting out all the feelings I've ever felt.

"Thatta boy." Cyprian pats my shoulder. "I'll give you some time on your own. We'll be there in half an hour or so."

He leaves, dragging a protesting Vivienne away with him. I sit by myself, my mind wandering to the events of the previous night. Capitol talk of a proposal… The conversation with Phoebe… Speaking in the other Districts…

Before I know it, the train lurches to a stop, and Vivienne bursts back into the room, dragging me out to the truck, running her fingers through my hair on the way. Cyprian follows, arms crossed.

As I'm announced, I step out onto the stage and take a second to realize how pretty the District is. I really want to see the ocean, but Vivienne just wouldn't allow it.

I read from the card, the warm breeze pleasantly blowing on my face and hair. When I glance up, I see a single mother on his side, who looks as if she's spent quite a long time crying that morning. My stomach tightens and I glance over at Blanche's side. She has two parents, a tall girl with hair tied up in a tight bun, and a little boy with reddish brown hair.

I keep reading, pace quickening as the time seems to lug on by. Finally my eyes reach the last word and my mouth speaks it, and after some quiet, lame applause, I'm escorted away to the train, all courses set for District 3.

My prep team make last minute touch-ups on the way, trying to keep my hair out of my eyes and failing badly (I always shake it out when their backs are turned. I hate my eyes and I hate my hair.) and straightening out my outfit and such.

Soon we park at District Three and I wait inside the Justice building for a while. I pace around in circles, nobody saying a word. The scene I had to watch, the way that the kid died… It just hurts so incredibly much. And it hurts even more every time I watch it, every time I even think about it.

I step out on stage to a substantial amount of applause, surprising to say the least. Fahrenheit's side has two parents, a small boy and slightly taller girl, and another boy that doesn't look related to them and looks to be Fahrenheit's age. On Avogadro's side, two grim looking parents. The mother, a short, plump woman with hair just like his was, is obviously very pregnant. His father, a tall, grim-looking man, watches critically, on arm around his wife's waist, the other rigidly behind him.

I make my mouth speak the words that Vivienne wrote down on the card, as cold and meaningless as they may be. And then, just like that, it's on our way to District 2.

On Laurentina's side, two parents built tall and strong, and a pale boy that looks to be her age. On Fabian's, a cluster of kids. The youngest is a newborn baby held in the arms of the oldest, who must be my age or so. There are also two tired-looking women, holding hands and watching calmly.

I make my speech, the guilt of leaving Fabian to die cutting away at me. By the end of my speech, I make the mistake of looking onto Fabian's side and seeing the group of kids huddling close, and I see a lot of tears. I make it to the last word, feeling as if it's the last step of a marathon, and escape before the applause dies out for me.

I cry the whole ride to One. I thought I could handle it, well, I was wrong. I can't. I can't handle it. I can't handle what I did to him. I try to stop the tears but they're not stopping.

Vivienne puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Luther my poor dear, I know that a life of fame can be hard, but you're doing just fine."

I smack her hand away from me. I don't want her misplaced sympathy.

"We're going to arrive in District One soon, and our Victor simply cannot have tears in his eyes. Come on, now." She hands me a tissue and pats my head, "You've been brilliant, Luther. Don't let the streak drop now."

I nod a bit and soon I force the tears to stop. My prep team washes my face and puts various lotions and drops in my eyes to make it look like I wasn't crying at all. I'm amazed at how carefree they make me look.

The One speech isn't too bad, either, considering I talked to Pride once and Candle maybe twice or three times at most. On Pride's side, a very pregnant girl with strawberry blonde hair, a girl that looks almost exactly like a girl version of Pride, and two parents. On Candle's, two parents that look disappointed at most, and two 10 or 11-year-olds, with the same blonde hair as she had. The girl looks disappointed but the boy looks ready to cry.

I make the speech and get a load of shouts and applause from the audience, including Candle's little sister. Then I go back to the train and it heads to the Capitol.

~.~.

"Now, Capitol… Tell me… Are you ready for your Victor?!" The crowd goes wild and I swallow nervously.

"Well, here he is! Luther… Pultzer!" The crowd goes wild and Vivienne shoves me forward onto the stage, to greet Yin. Yin laughs happily and I think he's just glad I'm not Avogadro.

"Welcome back, Luther, welcome back! Please, take a seat, what an honor it is to have you here!"

"Thank you, thank you very much!"

"So, what's been going on in the life of Luther Pultzer, then?" he takes a seat and I sit across from him as he holds a microphone up to my mouth.

"Well… I'm taking it second by second, day by day." I pause. "And right now, I must say that your tie is very straight." I grin, a real grin, the first real grin I've grinned in six months or so. Making fun of the Capitol and looking like that's not what I'm doing, is a real blast.

I smile thinking about Avogadro and feeling a little sad at the memory, but at the same time filled with a childish glee.

Yin scowls for a second before restoring to his calm countenance. "Yes, of course, what an observation."

I laugh gleefully and the crowd laughs right along with me. Hearing my own laugh is shocking, it's been so long since I've laughed so heartily.

"_Anyways_..." I smile sweetly as he resumes the interview. "Any big news for us, then? How are things back home?"

"Actually, uh, there is one thing I'd like to say. To my girlfriend Casey, back home."

Some people in the crowd gasp and Yin looks more interested. "Alright, then, go ahead. Say anything you want to her!"

There's a second of silence. Butterflies fly around in my stomach and I know that this is what I have to do for my own good.

I find the nearest camera and look directly into it.

"Casey… I'm breaking up with you."

_**A/N: I'll be keeping track of sponsor points, but I won't be posting them anymore until the next story. **_

_**CQ: The next chapters will be epilogues for each of the characters. Who do you want to see the fates of in terms of the other tributes' families? **_


	21. Epilogues: D1, D2, D3

_**A/N: Epilogue time! All the author stuff will be at the beginning of the chapter for the rest of all the epilogues in this story. **_

_**CQ: (Wow, this one's kind of really lame) What did you think of the sisters/brothers/friends in this chapter? Who else do you definitely want an epilogue for? **_

_District One- Bright's POV_

Brilliant bounces in the house with an envelope in her hands and my stomach turns.

It's been seven years since the 41st Games, eight years since Candle died, and in that time I've slipped in training. The last thing I want to do is go into the Arena. I miss my big sister and the rest of my family doesn't even seem to care that she's dead! The funeral was short, and separate from Pride's, and I was the only one that cried.

My family still respects the Games, they still respect the people that did this to all those teenagers! Brilliant has posters of Luther Pultzer hanging in her room. They admire him, but not for the right reason.

Bright bounces to the living room. "Dad! Mom!"

Dad looks up from his newspaper and Mom comes in from the kitchen, drying her hands. "Brill?"

She holds out the letter to Dad and squeals a little bit. Dad opens it, reading the first two lines before breaking out into a grin. "Brilliant… This is amazing!"

"Is that what I think it is!?" Mom asks, gasping.

"Yeah!" Brilliant says with a happy giggle. "I'm going to follow in Candle's footsteps and succeed where she couldn't!" Hearing those words come out of my sister without a single undertone of remorse makes me sick.

"Oh, honey, that's spectacular!" Dad says. Mom hugs her, "We're so proud of you, love!"

After both of them hug her, she giggles and returns their hug. "I'm going to be the District 1 female in the 48th Hunger Games!"

"At age seventeen," Mom gasps, "Oh, honey!"

She nods proudly. Eventually their celebration fizzles out and my parents turn to me, crossing their arms. "Where's yours, Bright?"

"I'm not getting one," I mutter, "Ever." I'm next to last in training, the last being a stoner that never shows up.

"Don't be mad at him, Mommy and Daddy!" Brill says, "He's just a nerdy kid that can't hold a sword, it's not his fault."

Rage bubbles up in my gut, but I don't say anything.

"We'll have this conversation later, Bright," says Dad.

"In the meantime, let's celebrate!" says Mom. She quickly goes back into the kitchen.

"Brill can we talk?"

"Sure, Bright!"

I take her by the wrist and take her outside to the back yard.

"Brill, this is absurd. You can't really volunteer!" I say.

She crosses her arms. "And why not?" she asks, glaring.

"Because have you ever stopped to think about me!? About your family!?"

"I'll help them out when I win."

"What if you don't!?"

She glowers. "I'm _going to win_."

"It's not worth it, Brilliant! If you lose, you die! I can't live without you and Flick!"

"You won't! Flicker was weak, but I'm not! I'm volunteering at 17! I'm going to win."

"Please! I need you!"

"Stop being so clingy, Bright," she scowls, "I'm going to win and you're going to watch at home because you can't train."

"I can't afford to lose you! You're the last person left that still talks to me, Brill! Think about Flick-"

"Candle failed. I'm not going to fail!"

"Brilliant!"

"Bright, I'm volunteering and there's nothing you can say or do to stop me. Don't use up all your power on something that will never work!"

My eyes tear up and I give her a begging look.

"Just don't, Bright." She shakes her head, scowling.

"Don't be a Candle."

~.~.

_Fortune's POV_

When I wake up, I feel groggy. I see gentle though slightly foggy navy eyes gazing down at me.

"Cord," I sit up, feeling tear-stained and confused.

"It's a boy. And he's healthy."

My eyes widen. Oh yeah, I was just in labor. It's all so fuzzy, I screamed and cried a lot and it really hurt but they put me on gas before I knew anything.

"Oh, Cord…"

He strokes my hair gently. "I couldn't miss this."

I blink and notice his black eye, scratches on his face and his arms, and see a patch of hair shaved.

"What's… What's up with your hair?"

"Oh yeah, that," he rolls his eyes. "I had gotten into a fight with my parents and they broke another vase. While you were in labor they made me go get stitches.

"Oh. Why?"

"I finally just told them about the relationship."

"Oh," my stomach turns.

"They didn't like that I had you and Pride at the same time. They thought I was freaky. Called me some bad stuff, but nothing I haven't heard before."

"Right…" I have to say that my family wasn't thrilled, either. When I told them we broke up with Cord, they were all satisfied, even my sister Temperance, who is nothing but a little girl.

"They should be happier, though."

"Why's that?"

"I'm-"

Suddenly the door opens and a girl with blonde hair and large blue eyes comes in. Pride's sister, Sephora. She sits down and kisses Cord's cheek. "Hey Cord," she says with a smile.

He smiles, but something's off. I figure it's the drugs that he's coming off of, and smile. He'll be happy with Sephora. She's such a sweet girl.

A young nurse comes in just then, holding a wad of cloth in her hands.

"Oh, you're awake."

Sephora smiles softly, holding onto Cord's arm, and he has that weird drugged smile on his face.

"Would you like to see him?"

I nod, preparing for him to look like Pride. The nurse sets the baby, _my_ baby, in my arms. He sleeps, and has a tuft of dark hair on his head.

"Want to be left alone for a bit?" Sephora whispers. I nod a little bit, gratefully. She gets up and soon Cord does the same. He kisses the top of my head gently before taking Seph's hand and walking out.

I rock my baby gently in my arms. He's going to go off to the Davisons', and I'm going to try to get my family to forgive me. But, in that moment, those worries seem so very distant.

"I wish Pride were here to see this," I whisper. I imagine him sitting next to us, gazing at the baby in my arms. He would stay, I'm sure he would stay…

His eyes open just then and my eyes fill with tears. I don't know if it's because of the drugs, but my heart feels so very happy.

He has green eyes like mine, and they sparkle and shine like Pride's did when he got excited.

"You're never going to know me… But I'll always be your mother and I'll always love you. You'll always have a home with me, wherever I am." He lights up at hearing my voice and I laugh a bit, tears dripping down my cheeks.

"I want to name you after me, or at least a bit… How about Fortunado?" I've been thinking of that name for a while, and he certainly looks like one. "Fortunado Pride Davison…" I whisper, nodding through tears. "Yeah. That'll be perfect."

He smiles a tiny baby smile and my heart beats hard in my chest, tears sliding down my cheeks. I hold him, knowing this is the only time I'll ever get to be with him. I don't think my family's going to let me back in, and the Davisons have already said that they are his full parents and there is no hope of me being in his life again.

But now that he's here and I'm with him, those troubled times seem so far away. I rock him back and forth, memories of Pride and I coming back and hitting me hard. By the time Sephora and her parents come back in, I shake with sobs, still smiling. The memories are happy, but that doesn't make them hurt less.

"Where's Cord?" I ask.

"He went home," Sephora says. I notice her knuckles appear to be bloody, but soon that's the least of my worries when Fortunado is lifted out of my arms. "His name is Fortunado," I say weakly, "Fortunado Pride Davison."

Then, as much as I fight and try to stay awake, I black out, knowing that when I wake, he'll be gone forever.

~.~.

_District 2- Blaize's POV_

I wake up to screaming. I run to the boy's rooms and enter the room without knocking.

I shake the seventeen-year-old boy gently. "Nikolai… Wake up…" He's the oldest of the orphans, now that Fabian is gone.

His eyes open and he scrambles away from me, screaming.

"Nikolai!"

He curls up into a ball and cries quietly. He scares the orphans so badly when he does this. I know it's not his fault, but I can't help feeling angry at him for scaring everyone so badly. I'm the second oldest of the orphans at 13.

He sobs into his knees and the others trickle in. The little ones suck their thumbs with teary eyes and quivering lower lips. Some of the slightly older ones try to stay stone-faced.

"Are you alright?" asks a tiny voice. Dyson, a three-year-old, walks over with his blanket. The others follow, giving Nikolai their assorted blankets and stuffed animals. He dries his eyes and my chest swells with pride at them for being so strong and selfless.

"What happened?" I ask gently. He dries his eyes and looks around at all the concerned faces.

"Sorry guys," he says quietly, "I'm okay."

"We love you Kol," mumbles five-year-old Doe. The other kids soon nod and give assorted "I love you's," to him. They each take turns hugging and kissing him goodnight, and he hands them each their comfort object back as the tired orphans go off to bed.

"Night Dyson," he says quietly, wrapping the blanket around the last orphan's shoulders gently. Dyson pushes the blanket back into his hands.

"Nighty night," the three-year-old says quietly, yawning. Kol picks him up and Dyson immediately curls up in his arms and dozes off. Nikolai takes Dyson to his room and I sit on his bed, waiting for him to return.

When he enters, he looks surprised.

"Go back to sleep," he says.

"Talk to me. What's wrong?"

"Huh?"

"What are you dreaming about that makes you so violent?" I already have an idea, and he knows that I do. It's impossible to not know, considering the dreams started the night Fabian died.

Fabian was a real role model, he was just preparing to move out and promised to always come back for us. He promised he'd win the Games and come home to us. He hugged me and Kol for a really long time and he made us promise to be strong for him.

And I know it's hard, but sometimes I get angry at Nikolai for his panicking and his nightmares, even though I know that it's not his fault and if he could control them, he would. He's trying as hard as he can. I was close to Fabian, but I doubt my relationship with him was half as deep as his relationship with Nikolai. And I have to respect that, no matter how hard that is.

"You can talk to me."

"I know."

"Well, then?"

He sighs. "I guess it's just been bothering me that Fabian's torturer won the Games, s'all. I have nightmares… God, Blaize, they're so realistic… That Luther will break into the orphanage with his axe and murder everyone. That he'll come in and mutilate Mrs. and Mrs. That he'll break down doors and kill the children… You… Me… I know it's stupid…" Loose tears escape his eyes. I hug him tightly and he hugs back.

"It's not stupid," I say quietly. "That would really be scary to experience, even if it was just a dream."

He nods a bit into my shoulder, fighting tears but losing.

"It'll all be alright, okay?" I say quietly. I still have no idea what to say to make him feel better. He nods a bit.

I hug him and we sit for a while, together, neither of us saying anything. He gets control of his tears and I let him go gently. "Think you can get back to sleep?" I ask quietly. He nods a bit.

He lays down and I pull the covers over him. "Fabian will always be protecting us. Just in a different way."

He nods miserably. I sit on his bed and gently stroke his hair until he falls asleep before walking back to my room to catch up on sleep myself.

~.~.

_District Three- Inca's POV_

"Aha!" I find my shirt and pull it out from under Pilot's bed. Pilot, three years older than me at 19, laughs, lounging out on the bed. I slide the shirt on over my shoulders and find my belt lying in the corner.

"Man, you have no regard for my clothes," I say teasingly, picking it up and looping it around my pants.

"Sorry, you're just so damn sexy I lose my head."

I roll my eyes but have to smile. "Even with this hair?"

"Even with it." I have long hair and I hate it. I keep it tied tightly in a braid and, when I'm out of the house, clip that braid up to the top of my head so it appears I have short hair. That's what I really want.

He sits up. "So… I heard you watched your brother's Games in school yesterday."

I freeze up. "Yeah… Yeah, we did…"

"And you watched the death."

I nod the tiniest bit. "Yeah." I turn away, not wanting to talk about it.

"He cared about you before you were even born."

"I know. That's what makes it hurt."

He nods, frowning. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'll always be here."

"I know." I force a small smile across my lips.

He smiles and collects his clothes from where I had _politely_ dropped them in a pile beside the bed, as opposed to throwing them all over the damn room. Ah, Pilot and his lack of bedroom etiquette.

"Thanks for the tattoo progress. Two weeks for another appointment?" He's giving me a really big back piece, a big branching tree. We only do a little at a time. And afterwards, well, stuff like this happens.

"Sure thing, kiddo."

"I'm not that young," I say, huffing. He laughs. I roll my eyes, smiling despite myself.

"I'll talk to you later."

"Alright, thanks Inca!" he gives me a two-fingered salute and I grin, securing the hat over my hair as I turn and leave.

I walk by myself, making one last stop before I have to go home, home to that place I hate, the place where they dress me up in clothes that are for "pretty girls like yourself," even though those words make me sick.

I walk until I reach the cemetery, and enter. I kneel down at the grave and let the cold dirt seep into my "beautifully feminine" pants.

_There's something wrong with me… _

My eyes pool with tears as I run my fingers over the cold engraving, _Avogadro Bismarck. _Tears drip out of my eyes.

"What's wrong with me?" I whisper with a quivering voice, as if somehow someone will tell me. "Why am I not happy?" I have everything I could want, I have a good life, I'm a pretty girl… Ugh, those words make me sick.

I push the thoughts out of my head, sniffling with quiet tears. I'm scared of whatever power in me thinks these things. I'm a girl, that's how I was born. I should be happy with boobs, and wearing dresses, and with long, flowing hair. But I'm not. I'm not a girl. I don't want to be one.

A muffled sob escapes me as I push those scary thoughts away.

"Who am I?" I whisper quietly, voice quivering. I just don't know.

"_Bismarck, you will stay after class," Mr. Cunningham says, as the bell rings and all the other students get to go home. I put my books in my backpack and cross my arms. _

_I've always been Mr. Cunningham's least favorite student for absolutely no reason. I fail all his tests, no matter how hard I study. He calls me out for stupid things and gives me detention._

"_What do you want?" _

"_Not very polite, are you?" A quiet chuckle bubbles out of his lips as he sits, relaxed, in his teacher's desk. "Neither was your brother." _

_I freeze. "Avogadro. Y….You knew Avogadro." _

"_Very good, I did know Avogadro. I went to school with him. He thought he was so smart, everyone did, the kid that knows everything!" he says it with spite._

"_He did know everything." I know that's not true but I get defensive quickly. "He was the smartest kid in the whole District, maybe the whole nation!" _

"_He thought he was so fucking smart, arrogant little shit. And I see his sister isn't very much different." I freeze. The word "sister" makes me sick. _

"_He was so fucking smart!" _

"_You're not very respectful, are you?" He gets up and walks towards me. My stomach tightens. _

"_Not to people that don't show me respect." _

"_Well, Inca, I'll have you know that your grade in my class is close to failing. Oh wait, it IS failing!" _

_I scowl. "So?" _

"_So, your parents will be notified, unless, of course, you can do something to bump it up before Friday." When he steps closer, I step back. _

"_What do you want me to do?" _

"_Inca, Inca, Inca. I know you're a slut. I hear every piece of gossip to be whispered in this school." _

"_I'm not a slut!" Am I a slut!?_

"_Now's the time to use your sluttiness to actually help you." _

"_N-No! Never!" I quickly go to leave but he shoves me up against the wall so hard I wheeze. _

"_Then I'll just be the nice guy and bump it up for you." His lips touch my neck and I try to do anything I can do to fight. _

"_No!" I shriek, "No!" _

"_Shut up and take it…" he whispers, "Slut." _

I sit at the grave and just feel overwhelmingly scared.

I want to be someone I'll never be, I never want to go to school again, and on top of it, I'm just so confused.

I reach into my backpack and get out a pair of scissors, taking off my hat.

Deep down inside, I know who I want to be, and I know who I am, but as of now I'm just too busy hiding. All I do know is that here, laying at this grave, thinking of Avogadro's advice to me and his last words, gives me some kind of surge of power.

I take my braid in my hands, shaking with tears but knowing that this is the right thing to do, even if it gets me killed when I get home. I place the quivering scissors at the very top, closing my eyes. Then I cut it off.

At the sound of the scissors, my heart flies. This is right. It's nowhere near perfect, but it's one step closer to my body being like my soul wants it to be. Somehow, that gives me peace.

"What would you think of me?" I ask through tears. "Would you help me? Would I trust you enough to tell you I got r-r… Tell you what happened? Would you respect me? Would you help me?"

I sigh. "Or would you just be like them? Would you be disgusted? Would you tell me I'm being stupid? Would you call me a whore or a slut like everyone else I've ever met?"

It's all a game of what-if's. From what I saw of the Games, I think my brother was really trying to escape from what our parents raised him to think. I've always been an independent thinker.

I shake out my now-short hair and for the first time admit to myself that I will never be the daughter my parents want. I'll never be the girl everyone wants me to be. It's not who I am. I'm not a girl.

"You didn't have a little sister," I whisper to the grave, lightly running my fingers over the letters and memorizing how they feel. "You never had a little sister." Tears run down my cheeks but I feel a surge of power and peace, like these are the right words.

"You have a little _brother_."


	22. Epilogues: D4, D5, D8

_**Chapter Question: Who should I do from 10? Mick's Mom? Teegan's little sister? Maybe a POV of someone from school? Because I am seriously stumped on that tbh. **_

* * *

_District Four- Fritz's POV_

My name is Fritz Tawell, and I'm four years old.

I have two big sisters, Blanche and Mirabella. Blanche went away, and Mirabella said she'd be gone for a very long time. Every day after school I ask Mama when Blanche may be getting home, and every day she says, "Not for a very long time."

I do hope Blanche writes us soon from wherever she is. I saw her on the television screen the other day, she was wearing a turquoise, shiny dress that sparkled like the ocean.

Blanche and Mirabella are very different, but they love each other anyways.

Sometimes Blanche gets very scared. Mirabella tries to make her better but it never works because Mirabella just makes her more scared. When this happens, I sit with Blanche and let her be sad because that's what Blanche likes when she's sad. I can't make her feel better but that's okay because she says she likes it when I do that.

I wonder who will sit with her if she gets scared wherever she's going.

One Saturday morning, I wake up before my big sister, as usual, and go downstairs to get breakfast so I can go outside and play. When I reach the kitchen, though, Mama is dressed up all nice like she is on reaping days.

"Oh, Fritz, you're awake," she says, "You're going to have to change, though."

"It's not reaping day," I say, matter-of-factly. Reaping day is a word that's used when everyone in the District dresses up all nice and goes together to see a production on stage. There's a clown, and there's a lottery to pick someone to go on a special trip.

Every time I ask for more information, Mama always hushes me and says I'll know later. I wonder when I'll start to be eligible for the big trip. Some people who have gone on the trip have come back in a month or so, but that doesn't happen very often. The rest are all gone for a long time. They never tell us when they're gonna get back, though.

Mama takes me to my room and gets icky nice clothes from my closet.

"Fritz," she says, "Do you remember when you were younger and Meemaw left?"

"Yeah, I remember that," I say. "You said she wasn't comin' back ever." I think. "Is she comin' back, Mama!? Is Blanche comin' back!?"

"No." She puts the shirt on and buttons it up for me, and I step into the pants that are too long for me. "Blanche is going to be with Meemaw. She isn't going to come back ever."

I freeze. "But Mama… You said Meemaw left 'cause she was gettin' old and wanted to be young again. Blanche isn't old."

"Blanche wasn't old. Blanche was very young," she says quietly. "But she left. And Reginald left too."

"Where'd he go?"

"He went with Blanche."

"They're together, then?"

"Yes, they're together."

"Is that where they went?" My eyes widen, "Are they not allowed to come home from their trip?"

Mom sighs and nods, "Yes, they left on their trip and aren't coming home."

"Will they write?"

"No. You'll have to forget about them."

"F…Forget?!" No, I don't want to forget about Blanche! I don't want to forget about the times we laughed and played together with Mr. Reginald.

"Yes, Fritz, forget."

I frown. I don't want to forget.

"Mama, how do you forget things?" I don't know how but maybe Mama does. Mama knows a lot, and Papa too.

"There really isn't a way to forget," she says quietly, tying a tie tightly around my neck so tight I might choke maybe.

"Mom," Mirabella says from the doorway. Mama looks up, smiling a smile that isn't like Mama's other smiles.

"You look beautiful, dear," Mama says. Mirabella smiles that same smile that isn't like her other smiles.

"Are you ready to go?" Mirabella asks. Mama nods, taking my hand. Together, we walk out to the kitchen to meet Dad, and then we go to a very pretty place that we went inside after Meemaw left. Inside there are two little pods that look like beds. Mirabella steers me away from those, though.

The room is empty except for us and whoever is sleeping in the beds, until someone else walks in.

"Mrs. Holloway!" She looks very sad so I run over and hug her. She hugs me back gently. She wipes tears away from her cheeks gently and I frown. I don't like her to be sad.

When she releases me I release and she walks over to the beds, where my sister and parents are. Maybe they'll wake the sleeping people. I follow, seeing if maybe I can help.

When I kneel on the plushy surface next to Mirabelle, I look at the sleeping people. It's Blanche and Mr. Reginald. Blanche has red marks on her body and Mr. Reginald has a big red line on his chest, but other than that they look okay.

"Wake up, Blanche and Mr. Reginald!" I say happily. "I thought you said they wouldn't come home!"

Mirabella has her face buried into her hands, crying. Dad hides his face in his arms, shaking.

Mom rubs my back. "Fritz," she whispers, her voice shaking. "Blanche and Reginald are never going to wake up."

"They're not?" I blink, confused.

"No. They're going to sleep forever."

"Oh…" I frown. I think about all the times I woke Blanche up early on Saturday mornings so we could play before she had to do work.

"But I want Blanche," I say quietly, frowning. "Wake up!" I shake Blanche a little bit. She doesn't move at all, though.

"Sh, honey," Mom says quietly, "Be still."

I nod a little bit, understanding the point. I kiss Blanche's forehead gently, where she looks so nice and pure in her pretty white dress.

"Sleep soundly, Big Sissy. Sweet dreams."

~.~.

_District Five: Sawyer's POV _

I sit out by myself on the roof of the house. I've spent many summer and autumn nights up here, staring up at the sky. On good days, you can see the moon. On great days, you can see the stars. Sometimes the smog and smoke of producing power just covers the sky.

I hear steps and look up to see my two little brothers, Ivan and Georgy, climbing up on the roof to sit with me.

"There you are Sawyer." The seven-year-old helps lift five-year-old Georgy up, and together the three of them join me.

"What're you lookin' at, Sawyer?" asks Ivan, curling up against me. Georgy lays his head in my lap gently.

"The sky. Look, you can see the stars tonight." I point up to the sky, and the other boys look up with wide, innocent eyes. Ivan knows that Penny's dead, but he didn't watch it, nor did he see the body. Georgy knows that Penny's gone, but doesn't really understand it.

"Yeah," Ivan says.

I hear more steps up the ladder. "Boys, are you up here?"

"Yeah, Mom." I hear her and Dad come up to join us.

I feel Mom's gentle hand stroking my hair and Dad pats my shoulder.

"How are you three hanging in?"

"Good!" Georgy says, at the same time Ivan says, "Alright."

"You, Sawyer?" I know she's concerned.

"Fine," I say quietly.

"Oh, Sawyer…" Dad says quietly, rubbing the small of my back. I can't help feeling bothered by what happened. Penny was too young, she had too much… It still hurts that she was reaped away from us like this. Ivan hugs my arm and leans against me and Georgy sits up to hug me from the side.

"You know what I think?" Mom asks.

"What?"

"I think that every good soul in the world is a star. And that, when a life is taken, that soul gets to go home. I think that our dearly loved Penny will never truly die, and never really be gone. She keeps on lighting up our lives, just like she did when she was alive."

I nod a little bit. That makes sense, and I feel a little bit calmer at the thought that Penny isn't gone, not gone at all, she's just alive in a different way than before. It doesn't make it better, though, nothing could possibly make it better.

"The sun's a star," Ivan says, "We learned about that in science class."

"Penny's the sun!" Georgy says happily, giggling, "She keeps us nice and warm!"

None of us argue his point, letting him think whatever it takes to make him happy. I stroke his hair gently as his eyes close.

"It's going to be a long day in school tomorrow," Mom says quietly. The others nod and stand up to go back inside.

I don't move, because I don't want to. Mom, Ivan, and Georgy go back down the ladder into the house, but Dad stays up there with me.

"It's really hard," he says.

"What if I'm reaped someday, Daddy!?" I haven't called him _Daddy_ in years, but once it's out I don't take it back.

"Then you'll have to try to stay strong and come home."

"I hate it," I say quietly, "It's not fair!"

"I know it's not fair, Sawyer. And it's not fair that we can't do anything about it. And it's not fair that we're at the Capitol's mercy. But we just have to know how to survive, and keep fighting through until the very end. Maybe someday things will change."

"How could we change them?"

"If there's enough people that are willing to make sacrifices, a full-fledged rebellion could ensue."

"But Dad, there's been forty-one straight years of tributes dying, why has this not happened yet!?"

"Because people are scared, and they're glad that it's not their child."

I sigh and he stands up. "I'm sorry any of this has to be this way for any of my children." I nod a little bit, and there's a pause. "Coming?" he asks.

I shake my head. "You go ahead. I want to look at the stars just a little bit longer."

~.~.

_District Eight- Bronx's POV_

I sit on the train with my arms crossed.

"Bronx-"

"I was going to have a perfectly good evening getting high as balls, but _no_, I have to go back to the stupid Capitol to go to this outrageous Victor party." I'm pretty pissed.

"Well you have to be there," Maximus says, crossing his arms.

"No I don't. I can just sit in my house and get high happily on my own."

"No, you can't. The Capitolites are expecting to see you there. Their mysterious, dark, shady Victor boy."

"Everyone wanted the kid from Two to win, anyways," I huff. Nobody liked me because I have literally no redeeming qualities. I had no strategy for anything because I figured that as soon as I'd get home alive, I'd just get arrested for selling drugs. But, heh, the Capitol's forgotten about that little incident, either that or they haven't heard or are just ignoring the rumors.

Anyways, I don't want to go to this party, but Maximus (the District 8 escort) thinks that if I go, then people will like me more. As _if_. They're going to be too busy staring at Luther to care about what last year's pile of ass is doing.

"Your fan-base is important, Bronx. They're what keeps the Capitol happy-smiley with you." He pokes his cheek with a huge grin on his orange lips.

"What reason do I even have to keep the Capitol _happy-smiley_ with me!?"

"Because, we have power." He raises a ridiculous orange eyebrow at me.

"What the hell is there left to take?!" I ask, standing up and balling my fists. "You've taken EVERYTHING!" Breath suddenly doesn't come easily, I take deep breaths that don't seem to accomplish much, "What the fuck do I have that you can take?!"

Tears sting my eyes for the first time in years and years and fucking years. I didn't cry on my Victory Tour, I didn't cry when they took Ryann away, even when I had nightmares I still didn't cry!

"Bronx!" he says, but I'm not listening anymore.

"It's all. Fucking. Gone! It's shitting GONE! It's goddamn ass bitching GONE!" My head gets foggy and soon I'm just listing off bad words like I used to do when I first started dealing. Angry tears slide down my cheeks, and I feel so pissing mad I don't stop them now.

"Newsflash, you clowns, THERE'S NOTHING LEFT! You've got nothing to use against me! What are you going to do, whip me for doing nothing!? Shoot me in the heart, I dare you! Then maybe, just maybe, I could just be with them all again! There's a reason I spend my days tripping balls, and there's a reason I would ever even do as much as think of touching this skin with a blade, and it's all because of YOU!"

I collapse on a couch and curl up in a ball, not wanting to say anything else.

"Bronx," Maximus says, and he sounds pissed but I don't care, I'm pissed too.

"Don't _Bronx_ me," I spit at him. "I'm not just a child that's nose needs to be cleaned all the time."

"Well you're acting like one," he says, "Having a tantrum just because you have to go somewhere nice instead of being a bum all the time!" I growl, he sighs and shakes his head. "Ugh, District people."

He walks into the other car, leaving me by myself. I try to stop the tears but they don't stop. They keep going. All the emotions that have been dammed away flow out like a powerful river of feelings. I didn't admit to myself at the time, but I cared about Ryann and Liana.

They were my competition, but they were the only people who were in my boat, trying to live a double life. They're the only people that tried to juggle school and work and the black market, without letting any of the three points slip. They kept me from shooting myself once, the night after everyone found out my secret.

I wasn't suicidal, in fact, I was terrified. But I figured that death by my own gun would be better than death by the Capitol's.

And Nolan was a lot to get used to, and he never seemed to have a heart but I knew he had one. He and I had some deep talks together, before any kind of sales went down, and I considered him a friend. I always pretended I had a problem with him going to Liana and Ryann, but I never did.

Looking back, it was almost like we were one big family. It was a fucking weird family, especially considering that I've had a crush on all three of them at some point, but a family all the same.

Liana and Ryann were like my sisters, and I tried to protect them as such. I know better than anyone that sometimes you have to do shady things to fight for yourself. And Nolan was like my brother. He had a lot of problems with his Dad and I had problems with my Mom, and any time I was down we'd drink together and lift my spirits. Even when I was trying to stay clean he'd listen to me talk.

And, looking back, I honestly would've never believed that I would be the last man standing.

I had so many problems and have been so close to death before, I never thought that the invincible Ryann and Liana and the strong-as-iron Nolan would die so early in life.

And the worst part? I was so close to getting Liana home. So damn close. I worked my ass off to get her sponsors, and even so I wasn't good enough and she died.

_When it happened, I realized so quickly that I was the last one left. And that made that moment so much worse. It was the first time I'd ever lost my head without the help of some kind of drug. And, after being completely clean for two weeks, I realized how sad my existence is. _

_Cyprian put a hand gently on my shoulder and told me it was going to be alright and that it wasn't my fault. Maybe it's easy to say that after you've spent 30 years losing tributes. Maybe it's easy to say that if you didn't lose someone that you have tangible memories of. Ricco, who's much younger and Victor of the 37__th__ Games, tried to reassure me, but his words were as empty and hollow as his eyes. _

The train lurches to a stop, and Maximus appears in the doorway. "Come on, now!" he seems to have regained his composure.

"Fine." I get up and take a deep breath, putting a stone-hard expression on my face.

"Couldn't you at least _try_ to smile?" he hisses.

"No."

"Bronx, I know you think your smile is ugly, but it's actually-" I cut him off.

"There's no ass bitch way I'm smiling when walking into a party celebrating the death of my best friends."


	23. Epilogues: D9, D10, D12

_**CQ: Gosh, I don't even know, uh… ((These questions are getting so lame, good thing there are only two more left to think of counting this one…)) Which POV was our favorite? Which was the saddest? **_

* * *

_District Nine- Chancellor's POV_

I wake up with a heavy arm on top of me and groan. The guy fell asleep. I take the money from where he left it on the nightstand and quickly get dressed again before he can wake up and even think about asking for more.

I sling my backpack over my shoulders and my heart drops to my stomach remembering the lack of condoms I have. Looks like next week is going to be a choice between food and condoms again. I do all this work, but condoms are so expensive, especially the newest kind that actually fight all kinds of STD's.

I'm wearing a T-shirt with a sweatshirt over it and long jeans, and yet people point and call me a whore. I'm the joke of the whole District, and yet I haven't had a free night in months and months.

I don't wear shoes, I never have. Once the pair I had been given broke, I haven't been so keen on trying to choose between shoes and food. I don't need them that much.

I get home and barely have time to wash off before going to work in the grain fields. My house (would you call it a house? More like a hut) is small and not very nice, and even so it's hard enough to try and tend to that and to myself. Sometimes I think it'd just be easier to pitch the house and be homeless, though I know the shelter is probably valuable…

I waste my days working in the fields, and nowadays nobody dares to talk to me anyways.

Through my time in this District, I've had one friend, one true friend, and her name was Josie Tarver. She was a prostitute like me, though she didn't have a choice like I did. When we first met, I thought we'd never like each other.

We were so different, Josie and I. She had parents that hated who she was so much they forced her to sell herself to try and get her to be what they wanted. My parents both died, my Mom when I was just a kid and my Dad when I was 17. I wasn't out to them. I never will be.

The first time we talked we got into an argument because I said how much I wished my parents were alive. She told me she wished hers were dead. It was our worst argument, and it happened before we were even friends. I apologized the next day, though. I realized that this girl was young and in her prime like I was, and without her I'd have absolutely no one.

After that we found common ground and became the best of friends. We needed each other and always had the other's back. When people made a joke out of me, she was always there by my side to take my hand and remind me they're wrong. And when they laughed at her, I was there to spit on them just for her.

I may not have realized it at the time, but I needed her in my life. I needed her there to help me along, to inspire me to keep on being the man I've always wanted to be. She always saw the best in me, and I in her. I always knew that, even if everyone else in this god-forsaken District hated me or thought of me as a joke, she didn't. She never did, because she knew how it was. She was the only person to understand me, the only person who wasn't a whore just to be one. I needed money. She was forced.

I can't imagine what she went through, and I have no idea how she was able to keep her head for so long. From the time I met her she was Josie, and she died Josie, too. Even after so much loss and grief, after being to hell in back thanks to her stupid parents… Somehow, she never let it get to her.

She thought for herself, and because of that people called her a bitch. I always saw her for more than that, though. I respect the way she always stood up for herself and for me, and I appreciate it to the ends of the earth.

Her parents didn't have a funeral. They didn't even have a viewing for her. And yet they still stood on her platform during the Victory Tour. I almost went up there and beat them away from her memory, but I knew that's not what she would've wanted. Oh, I know she would've wanted me to shoo them off and stand there instead, but I also know she wouldn't have wanted me to start a scene or put myself in any more danger than I already do.

I owe it to Josie to live the life I always knew I could live. It's a lot harder without her here to cheer me on, though. I know that wherever she might be, she's still cheering for me, but it's really not the same. It's not the same to be bullied and jeered at without someone there to remind me why I matter. A lot of loneliness.

I might have a constant companion at night, but I feel so lonely all the time.

The part that sucks the most that I never got to say a proper goodbye. I don't feel like I've properly let go of the memories we had together. But, then again, I probably wouldn't feel that way unless there was a funeral.

I make a very spontaneous decision to blow off my client tonight. I feel like a free night, a night with nothing but sitting at home, is the proper way to say goodbye with all the respect I can give. She deserves so much better, I know, but can't give much better than this.

After a long day of work, for once, I go home. I get water and I bathe. I wear a pair of real pajamas. I crawl into my own dusty, neglected bed. It's the most comfortable I've ever felt. For once, I relax, and I feel more in-control than I have in a while, of my life and my actions, and of my future.

I curl up in the covers and I feel an overwhelming sense of peace. I feel like this is what she would've wanted, given the terrible circumstances.

_I'm sorry you couldn't have had better, Jos. I'm sorry it has to be like this. I wish there was more I could do…._

_I'm going to be the person I always wanted, live the life I know you would've wanted me to live. _

_It hurts to be here without you, but life's a bitch. A beautiful angel once told me that. _

_I hope you're happy forever, wherever you are, and I'm ready to say goodbye now, though I'll never forget you. You had too big an effect on me for that._

_Thanks for being so cool, Tarver. _

_Maybe, just maybe, someday… We'll meet again._

~.~.

_District Ten- Omniscient POV_

It's a cold, snowy day in January, and the plains of District Ten are covered in snow as the flakes fall gently from the light gray clouds. A week has passed since the Victory Tour, and after Luther talked to the citizens of the District, the people had quickly returned to their lives as they had known before the Games had happened.

After all, the civilians of Ten felt pity, but there was work to be done, and it was one more year with their loved ones safe and sound. Sure, a Victor would've been nice, but there are now more important things for them to do than sit around and wait for one.

The wind picks up, blowing flurries in whirlwinds across the gray sky. The animals are in the barns and the families in their houses, all except for one young girl with wavy hair and bright blue eyes. Her name is Lindsay.

She's just fourteen but she has a real love in her heart for all animals. She was about to go back into her own house when she saw two figures out in the snow and went to see them.

She sees two dogs there, one, a Collie, lying in the snow, the other, a Britany, curled up at the Justice building, looking at the door with big black eyes, waiting for his owner to return to him. The girl's heart stops as she walks over to the two poor creatures, pulling her hat (made of the sheep's wool by her mother) over her ears.

Her heart breaks at the two creatures, thin and boney, desperately waiting. The girl walked to the Britany first. She knows these dogs. They belonged to Mick Evans, a boy that went to her school before he went to the Games. The Britany, the boy, is Carino, and the Collie lying in the snow must be Dolce.

The dogs always followed Mick wherever he went, and they always stopped to lick people's hands. They are good, friendly dogs.

The girl didn't know Mick personally, but she knew _of_ him. He may not have had a specific best friend, but he was well-known in the District. He always knew how to make people smile, and if he didn't then his dogs certainly did. Mick was well-liked, even if he didn't know it.

She kneels next to the Britnay and brushes the snow off the shivering thing's back gently.

"You must be starving," she says quietly. The dog licks her hand, shivering, and she brushes snow off of him and rubs him until she's got most of it off. Then, the girl goes to the Collie, the Britany watching her every move.

The Collie isn't breathing. The girl shakes the dog gently and tries to warm her, hoping for the inevitable. Her heart drops when the dog doesn't move.

Carino goes over, looking expectantly at the girl as she tries to get the Collie to move. She frowns and pats his head. "I'm sorry," she says quietly. The Britany's ears go back and he looks at her with dark, sad eyes. She pets him gently.

"Come on," she says quietly, "You can come home with me."

She gets up and pats her knees.

"C'mon. You can come home with me."

The dog goes to meet her, but when she starts walking home, he doesn't follow. He walks back to his Collie companion, sitting by the door to the Justice Building and whining.

The girl frowns, "I know who you're waiting for. But he's not coming back. I'm sorry."

The dog whines, goes around the circle, and sits back down again. The girl sighs, knowing in that moment that the dog won't move from its spot. She goes to her house to find some food for him, bidding a curt hello to her less tenderhearted brother and less-than-adequate father as she takes some bread from the kitchen.

"If you're feeding the damn animals again-" her father starts, standing up to go to the kitchen.

"Don't worry, Dad. This is my share and I won't take any more than mine." She works for the family at the young age of fourteen, and therefore does with her share of money and food what she wants. She walks back out to the Justice Building, hoping that the dog is still alright after a twenty minute walk to and from.

When she approaches, the wind and flurries pick up, unpleasantly sending a shiver through the little girl's body. She arrives at the Justice Building is not greeted by the happy but starving dog as she was last time. She approaches to see Carino curled up right across from Dolce. Quickly, she practically collapses on the snow next to the Britany, shaking the snow out of his face and looking for signs of life.

The dog, like his female companion, doesn't stir. Warm tears appear in the girl's eyes, though she knows that it was for the best. She clears the snow from the dog's coat, and knows that he's gone to heaven when no reaction comes from him.

She slowly eats the bread, though still sad she couldn't make it on time to help him. Then, she walks back home, staring at the snow and the cold flurries flying around her and getting caught on her dark hair and her back.

And so, as every loyal companion does, the dogs joined their owner.

~.~.

_District 12- Holland's POV_

"It's okay," I told them, "You guys can go ahead."

"Will you be okay, though?" Barney has to lean to the left to see me without Elizabeth blocking his view. I know both of my friends are concerned about me; they have been since the first time they met Salem, really. Even if he died hating me, which I don't even know, I still cared about him.

"I'll be okay." In the past, I've always told them everything, but nowadays I feel so uncomfortable burdening them with my concerns and worries. Since Salem died, I've felt like so much more of a burden to everyone. I've felt so irrelevant. Maybe going to work will change that, when I start next week. Maybe it'll get better with time.

But, the days may tick by and tick by, and so far I haven't found myself missing his general anger and crabbiness any less.

"You can tell us anything, Holland," Elizabeth says. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah." I force a smile on my face, "I know."

"We'll always listen, Holland." Barney smiles at me and I nod a bit.

"I'm fine. Really. Just a bit tired, s'all."

"You've spent a lot of time tired lately…" Elizabeth frowns.

"Yeah, I think it's just been all the stress that comes with funerals."

Elizabeth climbs off of Barney to hug me, and soon he follows. I can't help feeling so undeserving of their love. We sit in silence for a long time.

"Thanks," I say quietly. I mean it from the bottom of my heart.

"Want us to get you anything?" Barney asks.

"No, thank you." I keep my smile on, as fake as it is. "You two go off, now, I know you want to." I'm sure spooning and stealing kisses on the couch isn't nearly as fun as whatever two lovers do behind closed doors.

"Alright. You rest up. And remember that we'll always be here for you."

I nod.

"Good." He takes her hand and they leave together, me watching quietly.

The tears come as soon as the door closes behind them. They're the miserable kind of sobs that seem to choke you, and though few tears leak out of your eyes, you're left like a loser, making choked noises on your couch.

The pain just hurts me so much, it's overwhelming. It's not any kind of physical pain, though, it's the deepest kind of heartache out there. I can't imagine how Hester feels. And Kyran…

I haven't talked to Kyran in a long time.

_At the viewing, he stayed the whole time. When he arrived, he fell straight into Hester's arms and he stayed there for a long time. It's the most miserable I've ever seen him. And Hester. When Barney got there, he ran into my arms and when I cried, he cried with me. Elizabeth soon arrived and hugged me tightly. _

_My heart hurt. We took Barney into the hug and the three of us cried together, though I'm not sure if either of them had a reason to cry. _

_After they let go, I hugged Hester, and she couldn't even get a word out she was crying so hard. Her body shook, her breaths were more like gasps. She ran to Hector and erupted into sobs. He didn't shed a tear, but that's probably the most broken he had ever been. _

_I had always been afraid of the Games, but I never thought of them as something that could possibly happen to our group someday. And the reality hurts so very deeply. _

_Dallas hugged my legs and West was there do wipe tears from my eyes and dry my cheeks, though he could barely keep himself composed. As soon as he dried my tears his eyes got wet. I think he cried when he talked to Hester._

_Towards the very middle of the event, when a stream of people came in to talk to Antoinette's family, was the worst._

_Kyran tripped over his own feet and into my arms. His eyes were red and swollen, his cheeks tear-stained. He squeezed me tightly and sobbed right into my shoulder for the longest miserable eternity of a time. "Little Chris," he gasped quietly, but erupted into another fit of sobs before he could finish the thought. He cried so hard and for so very long that I realized how much he and Salem must've meant to each other, and how much he's lost. _

_Nobody really likes Kyran, especially not my parents, but somehow he and Salem were all they had left. I could see the brotherly love and the happiness they had in the few times I saw them together. I realized for the first time that this person was really special to my brother, and Salem was really special to him, too._

Since then, I've avoided Kyran Kasparek. It just brings back so many memories. Lately I've heard that he copes with a lot of alcohol (which I don't doubt), and also with a lot of sleeping around. My best friends sleep together sometimes, and Salem and Hester used to do it too. I know I'm the only one of my friends that's still a virgin, and I know I'm the only one left that's never had a steady boyfriend or girlfriend before.

Anyways, the miserable sobs rack my body as all these thoughts and memories swirl around in my head. I want a way to feel the pain physically as much as I do emotionally, and that's when I stop in my tracks with a scared gasp.

I don't want to cut. I want to but I know that somewhere inside of me I don't want to.

So, I do the first thing my mind tells me to and I walk to Kyran's house.

I don't know why I go there, but that's where my feet take me and my head doesn't do anything to stop them. I knock on the door before even knowing what I want to say.

Kyran opens the door and his face contorts with confusion. "Little Chris?"

"Kyran," I gasp, not realizing how strangled with grief I still am, "Kyran, I'm so scared, I haven't smiled or laughed since Salem died and I feel so irrelevant all the time and everything just hurts so bad and I haven't smiled in so long and I wanted to-"

He pulls me inside, cutting me off from my breathless speech.

"Sit," he says, shoving me down on a chair. I sit and look at him, whimpering a little despite myself.

He puts a glass in my hands. "Drink this. It'll help you calm down a little bit." I know it's alcohol, there's no kidding me there, but I take a sip anyways.

"Alright." He sits next to me. "Now," he puts his legs up on the table, relaxed. "Start over. What's the trouble?"

"I…I just… I don't know what happened, Kyran. No one can make me feel better. I can't even make myself get out of bed sometimes… And not even Barney and Elizabeth could make me better…. And I'm just really really scared and somehow, for some reason, I came here."

"Life sucks, doesn't it?"

I nod a little bit. My head starts to spin and I put the glass down.

"Hey Kyran?"

"Hm?" He looks up.

"I want you to fuck me."

He spits out the alcohol that was in his mouth. "Huh?"

"Well I know that you and West are on a break… And that's how you cope, isn't it?"

He nods a little. "Yeah, it is. And, I'll do it for you, but…"

"But what!?"

"You're not going to wake up happy, you know?"

"Yeah, but-"

"And it's not going to solve any of your problems."

"I know!"

"Then why did you ask?

"Because I want it to happen." He glances at me, and I widen my eyes slightly to get what I want. "All my friends have done it but me. I want to know what it's like."

"You're tipsy."

"I'm not! Please, Kyran."

He bites his lip. "You're sure you want to lose your virginity like this?"

"God, yes I am! I'm damn sure!" I snap.

He puts his hands up in metaphorical surrender, "Some people really care about their first time. Salem really cared. Hester really cared. West really cared, too."

"You didn't?"

"No, I didn't. I lost mine when I was your age, fifteen, and to this day I don't even know her name."

"Well I don't care. It's not going to be different than any other time I'd ever do it. It's better than me hurting myself. I'd rather have scratches made from passion than made from pain."

"Neither of them are good for anything. They're still scars."

"I want it, though. Please. I want to scream. And cry. And I want to bleed."

"Holland!"

"Do this for me! Please!" I shout.

He bites his lip, big-brotherly concern flashing in his eyes. Finally, he puts his bottle down and bites his lip. "If you're sure… I'll do what you want."

I swallow hard. I know I'm not ready for this, deep inside, and I'm even less ready to do so painfully. But, right now, it's the only solution that I can think of. I'd rather regret doing it than regret cutting, that's for sure.

"You're positive?" He asks, sitting on my lap and looking me right in the eyes.

I grit my teeth, scowling. "Stop asking that. I'm positive, and I am _not_ a child."

He smiles sadly, because he knows better than anyone that just a month ago or so, I was a child. So carefree and happy. I always had a smile, I was always able to laugh and make a joke. Even though Salem never cared for me, I always loved him anyways.

Those good times seem so far away.

He traces my jawline softly with a finger, pressing his lips to my neck and sucking lightly. "Of course you aren't."


	24. Dear Future Me

_**A/N: Well, here we are, at the end of this long and winding pathway. Thanks to everyone who kept up with this story and left reviews, you're what kept me going, even with the hiatus. And now, the fun isn't over! If you haven't already, check out my profile to submit a tribute for my 36**__**th**__** Games story! And, if you like these characters, then check out my story All My Broken Hopes and Dreams. There's a couple chapters dedicated to the friends/family/lives of some of them. You don't even have to read all the chapters, just the ones with names you recognize! And, enjoy this while it lasts because it's not going to be so easy to get so many points in 36... **_

_** Anyways, this story was really a blast to write, so thanks for reading and I really hope you enjoyed it!**_

_**-Celtic**_

_**Chapter Question: How did you like Luther as a characterization (was he realistic)? How about as a person? Did your opinion of him change at all through the course of the story? **_

_**P.S. Fabian was penciled in as the Victor for a very, very long time (like, before the hiatus even started). I thought for sure I was going to crack and make the Victor either him or Reginald. I was wrong. Anyways, chapter! **_

* * *

_Dear Future Me: _

_Welp, here we are. If you're reading this letter, then ten years have already gone by. Wow, ten already. Also, I assume that if you're reading this, then you're still alive. And still a Victor, of course. Which means that you're still living the Victor's Life (which is, of course, the only real possible conclusion that can be drawn right now). _

_This morning, I broke up with Casey. This afternoon a Capitol party caused me to forget about her. Now, it's coming back to bite me in the ass and I'm panicking. Vivienne said this would be a good idea to calm my nerves. She thinks I'm upset from breaking up with Casey. And maybe I am, or maybe I will be. Maybe you regret it. Maybe you think it's the worst decision you've ever made in your life. Maybe it is. _

_Doesn't matter anymore. It's done now. _

_I'm on my way back home, to District Seven with the trees and the grass and my family, your family, our family. Tate and Mom and Dad. They're going to move in with me. _

_How are they? I hope they're good. Maybe Tate will be able to see by the time you reread this letter. _

_I haven't felt GOOD in so long, but maybe it gets better like everyone's said it will. You'll have to be the judge of that, though. I wouldn't take the word of anyone else. Who knows you better than yourself, after all? _

_I wonder if you remember writing this. I wonder if you remember your shaking hand. Probably, because right now this handwriting looks like shit. I wonder if you got more schooling. I wonder if you can do calculus. _

_So many questions. So many scary questions that just make me panic. What if I have to watch the Games again? Will I be able to take it? I can't even think about what happened without hurting. It's been such a hard and long battle and what has it gotten me? So far, nothing. But maybe things are going to look up. I'm sure you're happier than I am. _

_Ten years may not seem like so much, but it's a long time. And you can do a lot in ten years. Will I do good things? Or will I become one of those Victors that dissolves into addiction and rolls over dead with nobody caring? Only you know the answer to that. _

_You're 27, old enough to get married, old enough to be your own man. I'm just seventeen, I'm still a boy, and a very scared one at that. I want to curl up in a ball, somewhere nobody will ever find me, like in the cellar of my house in the Victor's Village. I want to curl up there and stop time so I can try and get a handle on my life. _

_It's been six months, six months and I'm already so done with this stress. I'm already ready to curl up in a dark, quiet place and never come out again. If only. _

_I'm determined to stay away from bad Victor habits. I think that my family moving in with me will help with that. I would never want to risk Tate coming into contact with drugs or blades or anything of the sort. _

_So, how is everyone doing? I wish I could know. The future scares me so bad. I can't even think about next week without a tightening in my stomach. Let alone the big things, such as who do I want to be? What do I want to do? I wish I knew. _

_Thinking about future trips to the Capitol makes me want to throw up. I see visions of everyone I love dying because of me being dumb. Plus, six months later, six fucking months later, I still have nightmares about my Games! I'm haunted by Reginald and Nolan and especially Fabian. Maybe now that Casey is gone it'll be easier. _

_I keep saying that, but I know deep down inside that Casey isn't the cause of EVERY single problem I have. And I know that, even though she's gone, I'm not going to be magically happy. Maybe I'll end up MORE unhappy… Who knows? I'll bet you do._

_Either way, Casey made me happy. Sometimes. And I'm going to miss her company. I know this was the good thing to do, though, maybe… I trust Phoebe's judgment, and I really miss her. I sure hope you get to spend more time with Phoebe now that Casey's out. And I really hope you and Phoebe are still close. I know you are. She's your best friend, and even if you're angry at her or her at you (which is more likely), you'll always have her, and whether either of you like it, she has you forever. _

_Anyways, if you're reading this, congratulations. Not a lot of people know how much it drains us to constantly want to stay in bed. They don't know how exhausting it is to have fingers that constantly twitch for pills, or a plunger, or a blade. But you do. We do. _

_So, if you got up this morning, good job. Victor's life isn't easy. _

_So, now's my chance for a big block of questions. _

_How are you? How many scars do you have now? How's Phoebe? And how's Tate? Mom and Dad? Cyprian? Have you stayed away from drugs? Do you still swear a lot? Has the Capitol forgotten about you? Do you have a girlfriend? Or a crush (oh God)? How's life without Casey?_

_Oh, we're pulling into the station now. _

_Yours, _

_Luther Pultzer, 10 years before_

_~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~_

_Dear past me, _

_Life doesn't get much better, I'm afraid. Cyprian was wrong, the other Victors were just shitting you to make you feel better. Leaving Casey was healthy, though. _

_I know sometimes you lie awake at night and miss her, but you haven't been bullied since she beat you up and destroyed your home as soon as you folded up that letter to me and put it in your pocket. _

_As for the rest of your decisions, well, I can't say the same. I know it's not your fault, but Victor's life became too hard, especially when the threats started to rear their ugly heads. _

_It wasn't just you anymore. It was Phoebe. It was your parents. It was Tate. _

_What could you do? _

_You gave into them. _

_You have no other choice. You were just a kid, you didn't know what was going on. _

_Well, you THOUGHT you knew, but the reality is that you had no real clue. _

_You thought you could take the pain, so you put yourself in dangerous situations to get on the Capitol and the President's good side: and a LOT of them. You didn't mind the sex, mostly because you were used to being forced to pop a boner at the flip of a hat. _

_In fact, nowhere in the Capitol did you have a night quite as cruel and abusive as your nights at the Victor's Village with Casey. _

_Soon, though, you started getting nightmares every night: no matter whose bed you were sleeping in. _

_The first time it happened away from home, she didn't wake up. _

_The second time, he laughed and said his friends were going to be so jealous that he experienced such an event as that. _

_The third time, she gave you a glass of water, sat with you, and listened to you tell some bogus story to hide the fact that you are still traumatized by your Arena and being abused by a girl. _

_The fourth time, she complained. _

_When you met with the president, your mother was already dead. He gave you pills and said that if you'd take them, it would help._

_You had to go home and explain to your seven-year-old brother why he'll never hear his mother's voice again. You started to think you'd be better off dead._

_Since then word got out and you got a reputation as Luther "Nightmare" Pultzer. You didn't think he would at the time, but Bronx Stringer would call you that for the rest of your life. When he started it, you lashed out at him violently. You didn't understand why he hated you so much. _

_You thought that he should be understanding of why you did what you did because he's in your boat. That relationship doesn't get better as the years pass, either. _

_Before you know it, you're on your second cycle of mentoring. Your tribute wins that year. _

_You went on a tour with her and watched her deliver her speeches. You even ventured and asked around until you could find the families of some of the tributes in your Games. _

_In District 12, you talked to Salem's little brother Holland and his fiancé Hester. He taught you how to sign your name and you held onto that forever. _

_In District 11 you only heard random talk about either, and couldn't find any family members before it was time to go back to the Justice Building. _

_In District 10, you couldn't find anyone who knew Mick and Teegan. _

_In District 9, you caught up with Chancellor, a prostitute just like you were. He was a friend of Josie's. You understood each other, and you gave him your good boots. After all, you can always get yourself another pair. _

_In District 8, you finally got to see the girl Bronx Stringer married. She's 6 or 7 years younger than him, and they definitely aren't in love, though they don't hate each other so I guess it works well enough. The Capitol made a moderately big deal of the wedding and he didn't sell after that. _

_In District 6, you found Dianne's old boyfriend, and his wife and their child. The child has wide, sparkling eyes. _

_In District 5, you found Penny's little brother Georgy by accident: he was making out with a girl behind the school and I was just very lost. He said the family is doing well and so far none of them have been reaped since Penny. _

_In District 4, you found Blanche's sister, her husband, and their baby, named for Blanche. They said that Mrs. Holloway passed away last year, but on the bright side, the Tawells are as happy as they can be. _

_In District 3, you accidentally bump into Farenheit's old boyfriend. He introduced you to Avogadro's little sister, Inca. Inca looked uncomfortable in the girly outfit she was wearing (she gave off the same vibes as Phoebe did when she was still in school, going by Connor), so you gave her your sweatshirt. It was much too big, but she thanked you profusely and seemed genuinely excited. _

_In District 2, you caught up with Dyson, a young orphan that knew Fabian. He said he wants to volunteer someday. You told him to reconsider that. _

_In District 1, you were able to talk to the Head Trainer at their Academy, who had the gentlest navy eyes you'd ever seen. He asked you to speak to the trainees, and you had to make up a great life on-the-spot. Mr. Prior wasn't fooled. After, he introduced you to Fortunado Davison, Pride's son. _

_On your travels, you told each family that you still stay awake thinking of the lives lost in the Arena. They were all glad to hear it, I think, though everyone else seems to have moved on a lot more than you have. _

_A lot more than I have, really. I can't seem to move on from the past. _

_Anyways, to answer your questions. _

_I don't have a lot of scars, anymore, but I still lash out a lot. Turns out it's too late to save me from my anger issues. Phoebe transitioned and got hormones, so now people are starting to respect her more, and Tate's able to see again after getting some surgery. He's almost done with reapings, two more years, and I'm so proud of him. Mom is gone, Dad is hanging in there. Cyprian, the old dog, passed away last year. The funeral was short and sweet, though the loss still hurt. As for the drugs and alcohol, I couldn't stay away. I'm sorry. And as for swearing, I eventually just said "Fuck it." The Capitol has mostly forgotten about me, and I don't have to go to auctions anymore. As for romance, I have none. And, as for life without Casey, as I've said, it comes with a lot of regrets, and a lot of what-if's._

_Now that Tate's old enough and able enough to live well, and Phoebe's moved out of her terrible parents' house, I think my job, as far as I see it, is done. _

_My purpose is served. And I can't take much more of these nightmares, these visions, this Victor's life. _

_You asked how I am, and I intentionally saved the question for last. I'm pretty damn terrible. Nobody would know it, of course, because Victors have to be strong all the time and never wear down and never show any kind of signs of weakness. I've done that so well not even Phoebe could see how bad I've been dying this entire time. _

_No matter what I do, I'm haunted by my past, by my fuckups, and by every life I've taken. I can't deal with it anymore! _

_You were right, it would be nice to curl up and hide away forever and try to catch up with time, but this time I don't want to wake up. _

_Dad- Don't blame yourself. I was weak. It was always going to happen. I'll tell Mom you love her, and I love you._

_Tate- Don't stop on your path to excellence. I have all the faith in the world in your abilities. This isn't your fault. Don't ever think it was. And don't volunteer to avenge anything. I love you. _

_Casey- Fuck you. Maybe if I was able to cry every once in a while it wouldn't have come to this. You trained me to be abusive and lash out and that's what I've been doing. You're abusive and unfaithful, and if anyone even thinks that you really love me, I'll haunt them. You ruined me. Think twice before you ruin someone else._

_President- Good luck. You're lucky I didn't do this five years earlier when I really wanted to. I hope to God that the Games come crashing down and your whole stupid little system collapses._

_Phoebe- Never give up. Never ever. As long as you want to be, you are a girl. Your gender and your pronouns are valid. You know what I would want, you knew me so well. Please don't do anything stupid for me. All I want is for you to live happily, to find someone you love, and spend the rest of your life smiling and laughing. For me, that's what you have to do, okay? Don't join me too soon. You've helped me and changed me so much, but I'm stupid and weak. Please know that I love you so much. You're a great friend. I hid a big sum of money, and it's yours and my family's. _

_I'm sorry to the people I've let down, and to the 23 tributes that I cheated out of life. I was young and dumb and I thought I could handle it, but I was so wrong. Any of you would've been a better Victor than me. I cheated you, and that's not fair. You should've lived. One of you, not me, I should've died years ago._

_Every day I wake up and wish I had turned the axe on myself. Reginald, I respect you to the ends of the Earth, along with the other tributes that fell by my hand. _

_This is no one's fault but my very own. I'm weak. _

_I'm sorry._

_Yours, _

_Luther Pultzer, 10 years after _


End file.
